


A Simple Twist of Fate

by Blayzepwa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Butt Plugs, Dean Has Issues, Dean and cas are completely consensual, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Destiel - Freeform, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Flogging, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Touching, Paddling, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Sub Dean, Subdrop, Swearing, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blayzepwa/pseuds/Blayzepwa
Summary: Sam pulled that trigger in the cabin, and now their dad and the yellow-eyed demon are dead. The injuries Dean sustained from the demon mean that he and Sam have to give up hunting while he heals. Thing is, Dean is going crazy staying in one place. As he’s driving around late one night, he passes a club on the outskirts of town. It’s a fetish club, but Dean is willing to try anything to relieve the itch under his skin. There he meets a bartender who shows him that staying in one place might just be the most liberating thing he has ever experienced. If he can battle his inner demons and learn to let go, he can have true happiness…But at what cost?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I can't believe it's here! First, I need to give a HUGE shout out to my artist, Dogsled. The art you drew for this is amazing! You were such a wonderful partner in this, and I am so happy to work with you. Your skill is something you should be very proud of. Please check out the art masterpost (There's a couple additional illustrations there as well!) and give Dogsled ALL YOUR LOVE!  
> [ART MASTERPOST](https://tinyurl.com/y7khmres)
> 
> And to my Beta, Nilozot. Well, first let me say a huge THANK-YOU! This definitely would not have been the story it is without your guidance and suggestions. Because of your help, I have created something I am proud of, and you really saved this story! So thank-you, thank-you, thank-you times one thousand! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this. And unfortunately, I do not own any of the characters or any recognizable Supernatural story lines either. So sad.

Dean stares stoically at Sam for a moment, and then shakes his head in disbelief. “You want to _what_ ?” 

Sam sighs and rolls his eyes. “You heard me, Dean. I want to go find a job. We can’t hustle for the next year in one place, and the emergency money isn’t going to last much longer. You have meds, we have the rent, and bills and...” 

Sam checks off each item on his fingers.

Dean says nothing, just continues to stare at Sam. His face remains blank, but his eyes are turbulent. If Sam gets a job, that will be one step closer to him wanting to settle down permanently, and no way is that happening. Like, ever.  
Dean firmly shakes his head in the negative, and cuts his hand through the air. “Absolutely not, Sam. What if we find a hunt? You think your job will just let you take off at a moment's notice?”

This time it’s Sam’s turn to stare. And he does, jaw clenching tightly. “We’re not hunting right now, Dean,” he says firmly, correctly reading the look in Dean’s eyes. “You can’t run, hell, you can barely _walk_ on a bad day! What makes you think you can hunt?”

A pause, then, “Whatever, Sam.” 

Sam sighs. Things haven’t been the same between them since he killed their dad to destroy the yellow-eyed demon and save Dean. “Can we not start this again, Dean. Please?” His eyes are wide and pleading as he looks at his brother.

Dean rubs his chest, feeling the puckered skin of his scars through his shirt. He looks down, momentarily startled that he doesn’t see his blood running in thick red rivulets to pool on the ground, because he can still taste the copper that filled his mouth, still feel the knives that tore him from the inside out. He can still hear the words that the demon hissed in his father’s voice. He’s falling, and he doesn’t know how far the hole goes.

_Blood._

_Pain._

_You shoot me, you shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it, now!_

_Sam… don’t you do it! Don’t you do it!_

“Dean!”

Dean jumps as his brother’s hand lands on his shoulder. Sam’s voice drowns out the sound of the gunshot that echoes through his memory. He raises his eyes to meet the concerned brown of Sam’s looking at him.

“Hey. You back with me?”

Back? What the hell? “Never went anywhere, Sammy.” His voice sounds raspy and weak, even to his own ears, and he clears his throat and leans his hip against the table. He crosses his arms in what is clearly a defensive gesture and juts his chin out at Sam. 

Sam stares at him, before letting his shoulder go. “I’ve been calling you for several minutes, Dean,” he says quietly.

Dean just shakes his head and brings a hand up to scrub down his face. Everything is so confusing now. Up, down, left, right...none of it makes sense. There is no structure anymore. He’s speaking before he even realizes it. “You killed him.”

Sam steps back with a sharp inhale. “Dean, please. I did what I had to do. I wish I didn’t have to do that, but it was him or you!”

There’s a flash of anger, but it’s gone as swiftly as it comes. Instead, Dean’s voice is defeated as he pinches the bridge of his nose and repeats, “You killed him.”

Sam fists his hair in both hands. “Dammit, Dean! He was killing you! And you know what? I’d do it again. In a heartbeat, man.”

Dean looks at Sam and swallows heavily. “I know. That’s what scares me.” He pushes himself away from the table and heads out the door into the twilight, leaving a distraught Sam staring after him as he disappears into the darkness.

~*~*~*~*~

Dean drives slowly through the neighbourhood, the street lights bathing the road in a pale glow. Up ahead, he sees a sign on a post that reads ‘The Den’. Odd name, but whatever, it sounds kind of like a bar. And a bar is exactly what he’s trying to find. He shrugs to himself and pulls into the parking lot. He hesitates when he notices the decor on the blacked out windows. Whips and handcuffs are painted on the black in brazen colours, and painted coils of rope frame each window. A fetish club, then. Kinky.

He shrugs his shoulders and manages to find a parking spot beside a run down, tan coloured car. The amount of cars in the parking lot surprises him. He never would’ve thought that that many people would be into that sort of thing. Oh well, as long as they serve booze he’ll be happy.

Dean turns off the Impala and stares at the club’s entrance. He chews his lower lip, his fingers tapping out a rhythm only he can hear on the steering wheel. He glances at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Flinches away from the dark circles underneath his eyes and the gauntness in his cheeks that have never been there before. Before Sam had killed their dad and torn Dean’s life asunder. As with every time that particular memory sears into him, he feels as though he is spiraling out of control, and he takes a deep breath and reins himself back in.

He shifts to get out of the car, and has to pause at the momentary twinge that shoots through his chest, the physical reminder of the night his whole world changed. It dies down, and he hauls himself up and out. Dean shuts the door of the Impala, the familiar squeak of her door the only sound in the parking lot besides the faint, pulsing beat of music escaping from the club.

He opens the door of the club, and is immediately greeted by a large man who stops him with a hand held up. His face is stern, but his voice is welcoming as he nods at Dean. “Hey man, welcome to The Den. You on the play list or you just gonna hit up the bar?”

Dean blinks. Pauses. “Uhh…”

A chuckle. “First time, hey? Well, if you aren’t on the play list and don’t have a partner, rules are you can’t participate. Safety first, right?”

Dean doesn’t really know, so he just nods as though he does. 

“However, you’re welcome to head on through to the bar and have a couple cold ones or a bite to eat.”

“Yeah, man. I’m cool with that. Just wanted something to drink, anyways.” He didn’t just want a drink. He wanted a distraction, something to help him forget, even just for a night, but this guy didn’t need to know that. But since he was here, he might as well have a beer.

The bouncer tossed Dean a knowing look, as if he could see right through him. “Sure. Just remember for next time, no partner, no play, unless someone adds you to their list. The bar is the first door on the right.” An orange wristband is put on Dean’s wrist and inwardly he grimaces. Orange sucks.

“Got it, thanks.” As Dean heads down the hall and past the coat check, he feels the eyes of the bouncer burning into his back. He grits his teeth at the feeling and pushes open the large wooden door that he had been directed towards. 

He steps into the bar room, and glances around, his hunter instincts going full blast as they always do when he enters a new space, his eyes taking in every detail. He is pleasantly surprised at the atmosphere, expecting something darker and more dungeon-like, given the purpose of the other part of the club. Instead the natural red brick walls pop against the dark wood of the floors. Welcoming cream-colored leather booths line one wall, and hi-top tables with modern looking stools the same color as the booths fill the rest of the space. The far wall is taken up by a long wooden mahogany bar, and the large selection of available spirits are backlit behind it.

Dean walks further into the room, his confident stride belying the nervousness that he feels. His gut does a flip-flop at the sight of the man behind the bar. The man has unruly black hair that has the perfect just-got-fucked look that so few people are able to pull off. His piercing blue eyes catch Dean’s as soon as he enters the room, and one eyebrow tips up in appreciation. Fan-fucking-tastic. Maybe this place has promise after all. Dean had been hoping to meet someone of the female persuasion, but he would take what he could get. He’s been with a couple male partners over the years, considering himself an ‘equal opportunity lover,’ and is willing to give it another shot. 

The bartender’s eyes follow him as he reaches the bar, and Dean flashes one of his hundred watt smiles at him. The other man swallows heavily, before walking over and gracing Dean with one of his own smiles. Not bad. Not bad at all. Yup, this guy definitely has potential if Dean is reading him correctly. And he thinks he is. Yesirree. 

Wiping his hands on a towel attached to his belt, the bartender leans forward. “What are you having?” And holy shit, that voice. Dean feels heat stirring in his body, and has to take a deep breath to calm himself down. What the hell is wrong with him? It’s like he just hit puberty all over again. Down boy!

He clears his throat. “A pint of your finest beer and a shot of whiskey, “ he replies. 

Another smile, and the bartender turns to get Dean his drinks. Dean sits on one of the stools lining the bar, nibbling his lower lip as he waits for his drinks. As he waits, his thoughts flick back to Sam. In truth, he knows Sam is right, and that he is being selfish wanting Sam to not get a job. They do need money. But if Sam decides normal is what he needs, then he might leave Dean. Just like last time. Only this time, Dean won’t have his Dad there to hold him together. 

Dean’s breath starts to become shallow and he raises a hand and presses it over his heart, feeling the raised ridges of the scar that is a visual reminder of that horrible night. 

“Are you okay?” a gravelly voice asks, startling Dean out of his musing. 

“Yeah,” Dean weakly rasps, then clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah. Just gettin’ over a cold,” he finishes, his voice stronger despite the lie. He picks up the shot of whiskey and downs it in one gulp, wincing slightly at the burn of the alcohol as it travels down his throat. “Thanks,” he says, as he darts his tongue out to catch a stray bead of whiskey on his lip. The bartender’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention. 

Dean lifts his beer in a salute. “I’m Dean,” he says, momentarily startling himself at his willingness to use his own name and not an alias. 

“Castiel,” comes the reply. 

Dean arches an eyebrow. “Castiel, huh? Interesting name.”

An eyeroll. “My parents are from Alabama. They are...very religious,” Castiel explains, the disdain evident in his voice.

Dean snorts and takes a sip of his beer. “Bible belters, hey? I take it you’re not?” 

Castiel shakes his head firmly. “No. Not at all. I made some...lifestyle choices, and my parents disowned me because it did not fall in line with what they believed. I left ten years ago, and have not spoken to them since.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Dean says softly, his thoughts once again drifting to his dad, and how desperately Dean had tried to get his approval. And now he would never have the chance. He takes another sip of his beer to ease the sudden tightness that forms in his throat.

The pause that follows is slightly awkward, and Castiel moves away to complete an order for a tall redheaded waitress that saunters up to the bar. She gives Dean an appraising look on her way past, and Dean nods at her, but turns back to his drink, suddenly not interested in hooking up with anyone tonight. Sex-on-legs bartender included, sadly. 

The conversation with Castiel has brought back the waves of depression that Dean is running from and trying to drown in alcohol. He polishes off the rest of his beer, and before he can even put the glass down, another is placed in front of him. 

“You looked like you needed another,” Castiel says.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Dean takes another sip, and stares into the amber liquid. He twists his silver ring around his finger, one of only a few things he has that his dad gave him. How sad is it that the only physical reminders he has of his father are the car, his first gun, and a tiny piece of silver that fits around his finger? And his dad had wanted the ring back a couple months later to melt into a bullet during a werewolf hunt. Dean snorts at the memory, remembering how Dad had relented and let him keep the ring once he saw Dean’s reluctance to take it off. 

Castiel snatches up a rag and wipes up the rings of condensation that form on the bar top. “First time here?” he questions softly as he moves the rag in hypnotizing circles. Dean’s eyes follow the movement.

“Yeah. That easy to tell, huh?” 

“Most singles end up in the bar on their first time, there’s not exactly a giant sign explaining the club’s rules on the outside.”

Dean grins and looks at Castiel. “So you hang out and chat all the singles up, or what?”

“No,” Castiel says shortly, focusing on getting the water droplets off the bar top.

“Oh, so I’m special then,” Dean replies, leaning on one elbow and waggling his eyebrows in a playful manner.

Castiel pauses and raises his eyes to look at Dean appraisingly. Dean can’t help but squirm in his seat under that intense stare. After a moment, Castiel continues on wiping the counter. “Perhaps,” is all he says.

Dean’s mouth goes dry, and he hurriedly takes a drink. That one look once again reminds him of when he had just hit puberty and was completely controlled by his dick. Seems to be a theme tonight.

He finishes his drink and nods to Castiel for another. A few more patrons wander in, and Castiel becomes occupied with them, but some part of Dean is pleased to note that none of them hold his interest, or catch that electric gaze. Not that he cares. Because he doesn’t. Not. One. Bit.

Over the next hour or so, Dean nurses his beer and watches Castiel discreetly, thankful for the distraction from his thoughts. Even if it is only for one night. He knows he will have to go back and deal with Sam at some point, but for tonight, for right now, he is able to pretend that the past couple months never happened.

When two o’clock rolls around, the lights in the bar flick on, and Dean looks up, surprised. How did it get so late so quick?

Cas leans over the bar towards Dean. “Closing time, Dean,” he says. It almost sounds like there is a tinge of regret in his voice.

Dean lifts his glass to his mouth and finishes the remaining beer in one gulp. “Yeah,” he says, pushing the empty glass towards Cas, who picks it up with a small smile. 

“What’do I owe ya?” he asks.

“$37.50.”

Dean pulls out his wallet and flips it open. He grabs a fifty and hands it to Cas. “Don’t worry about the change, man.” 

The smile that appears on Cas’s face warms Dean’s chest more than booze ever could. “Thank you, Dean.” His fingers brush Dean’s as he takes the bill, and Dean inhales sharply at the electric feeling that zings up his arm at the light contact.

“I should...go. Let you close up,” he says. He’s not going to get lucky tonight, but he’s okay with that. The distraction Cas provided is enough for now. 

“I would very much like it if you came back sometime. I work tomorrow, as well,” Cas says, his blue eyes locking with Dean’s green ones. 

Dean straightens and nods. “Yeah. I could probably swing by.” He gives Cas a two finger salute and pushes himself off the stool.

“See you later, Dean.”

“See ya.”

As he walks out of the bar, he doesn’t even feel the ache in his chest.

*~*~*~*~*  
When Dean rolls the Impala into the driveway, the first thing he notices is that the kitchen light is on. Great, Sam waited up for him. He sighs, and leans forward to rest his head on the steering wheel. Maybe he can just sleep in the Impala. Wouldn’t be the first time. Raising his head, he sees Sam’s gigantic form peering through the large window. There goes that idea then.

Dean waits a moment longer, then figures he can’t put off the inevitable. Pushing himself out of the Impala with a groan, he trudges slowly up the drive, his boots crunching the gravel and sounding loud in the still night.

Sam opens the door before Dean makes it all the way up, a hesitant smile on his face. “Hey,” he says softly, not quite able to hide the worry that etches his features as he looks Dean up and down.

Dean sighs and pushes past Sam with barely a glance. “I’m fine, Sam,” he says as he walks into the living room and sits down heavily on the couch. He bends over to untie his boots and hears Sam settle on the chair across from him. 

“Sam,” he sighs at the same time Sam says, “Dean.”

They pause, then, “I’m sorry.” 

Dean sits up straight and looks at Sam, small smiles on both of their faces as they speak the same words at the same time. 

“Sam, I’ll never be okay with what happened to...to dad,” he says, swallowing heavily. “But you’re my brother. And, and now you’re all I got,” he finishes softly. It’s hard for him to get the words out. Despite the months that have passed, the brothers rarely spoke about it aside from one or two occasions like earlier. Dean couldn’t. 

Sam watches Dean, a lump forming in his own throat as he does. “I need a job, Dean. But I won’t give up hunting with you, I promise. We can just wait until you’re better, then hunt again.”

Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Dude, stop. Let’s be completely honest here. I’m gonna be out of commission for, well, a while. You might as well go get your normal on while you can. Besides, you’re right. We need money, and credit card scams and hustling aren’t gonna work if we stay in one spot.” Sam looks at Dean, a hopeful grin forming on his face. “But, when I’m better, and I will be better, we gotta keep goin’. I can’t stay here, not when there’s still evil out there.” Now Sam stands and moves to give Dean a hug, only to be stopped when Dean holds up his hand with a horrified look on his face. “No hugs, dude. Seriously.” What is it with Sam and hugging anyways?

Sam sits back down, and now can’t help the widening of his smile. “Dean, I...thanks.”

Dean pulls his jacket off and rolls his eyes at Sam. “Yeah, well, it’s better than you sitting here mother-henning me, anyways.” He stretches out on the couch, moaning in pleasure as he is able to stretch out his sore muscles. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, mind drifting back to the events of the night. More specifically, to Castiel. What is about him that sends shocks through Dean, and makes him hungry to see him again? Never, not even with Cassie, has Dean experienced this need before. 

He is interrupted from his musings by the sound of a bottle opening nearby. He cracks his eyes open and sees Sam holding out a beer to him. He pushes himself up with a groan and takes the beer. He can see that Sam is making an effort to not ask him if he is okay, and for that he is grateful. Well, for that and the beer. Beer is good. “Thanks,” he says, raising the bottle in a salute and taking a drink.

Sam settles himself in the chair across from Dean and cracks his own beer. They sit in what is now a companionable silence for a few minutes, each slowly sipping their drinks and lost in their own thoughts. 

“Bobby called,” Sam says suddenly. 

Dean raises an eyebrow. What is so special about that? Bobby calls almost every day to check up on him. The man is almost as bad as Sam with his worrying. “And?” 

“He’s coming by Saturday on his way back, and he’s gonna stay for a couple days. I told him we’d make steak for dinner.” 

Dean chuckles at that. “You mean _I_ will make steaks. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near the barbecue. You can play hostess for Bobby.” Bobby has been on a hunt on the other side of the country since Dean got out of the hospital, and hasn’t seen the place the brothers have rented yet. 

Sam just shrugs and grins around the beer bottle. “Whatever, dude. I don’t mind relaxing while you cook me and Bobby a nice dinner. So where did you end up tonight?”

And there it is. Sam is so snoopy, Dean can pretty much count down to the minute to when he will start hounding for details. Some things will never change. Whatever. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. “Just went to a bar, Sammy. That’s all,” he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You should know me by now.”

When no further information is forthcoming, Sam nods, then stands up, long arms stretching high over his head. “I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning, Dean.”

“Yeah, night, Sam.” Dean sits for a little longer, debating with himself if he wants another beer or not, before deciding Sammy has the right idea. He gets up and heads down the hall to his own room. And what a headtrip _that_ is. His own room. He hasn’t been able to say that since he was four.

He opens the door to his room and steps over to his dresser. On top of the dresser are several prescription pill bottles. Dean sighs. Stupid pills, in their stupid bright orange bottles. He pulls out his dose for the evening and swallows it with a grimace. His mouth tastes like chalk, so he gulps some water down from a glass of water he had left on his dresser this morning.

He strips down to his boxers and crawls under the covers. He lays there for a while, watching the shadows of trees and moonlight dance across his wall. When sleep finally claims him, his dreams sweep him away with a gravelly voice, mussed hair and blue, blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean awakens feeling refreshed. It’s unusual for him these days, but he will happily take it. For once his chest doesn’t hurt, and he’s able to take a deep breath. He stands and pulls on a pair of sweats, foregoing the shirt for now in favor of following his nose to the kitchen. Coffee is great.

“Mornin’,” he greets Sam as he immediately heads towards the small coffee maker that came with the house. He grimaces as he sees how much is left. And Sam probably only had one cup. “Dude, we need to get a bigger coffee pot if we’re gonna be here for any length of time,” he grumbles, before turning and leaning on the counter.

Sam looks up at him from his seat at the table where he has various papers scattered around him. His jaw drops a bit as he sees Dean without a shirt, the scar that he usually tries so hard to ignore plainly visible. He quickly clears his throat and looks back down at the paper as Dean raises his eyebrows at him. 

“See something you like, Sammy-boy?” Dean says with a chuckle as he lifts the mug of steaming coffee to his lips. If ever there was a reason for Dean to believe in God, coffee was it. Coffee, sex, and beer. 

Sam’s nose scrunches up even as his cheeks flush bright red. “Gross, Dean.”

“Your mouth says no, but your eyes say yes.” Dean lowers the mug to the counter and steps towards Sam, lowering his chin slightly and putting on his most flirtatious smile. Sam’s eyes widen comically and he starts backwards, his chair tipping precariously as his arms pinwheel for balance.

Dean stops and throws his head back, a deep laugh rumbling out of his throat. 

“Dammit, Dean! What the hell!” Sam throws his bitchiest bitch-face Dean’s way as he settles his chair down, grabbing a napkin and wiping up the coffee that had spilled on his jeans. 

“Sammy, you are way too easy. You should’ve seen your face.” Still grinning widely, Dean pulls a chair out and sits down. 

“You’re certainly in a good mood this morning,” Sam says, his attempt to still sound pissed at his brother ruined by the grin that turns up the corners of his mouth.

Dean shrugs good-naturedly. “Had a good sleep is all.” He leans over towards Sam. “Whatcha readin?”

Sam’s eyes nervously flick towards Dean. “Just some local help wanted ads. I uhh...I was just checking what’s out there.”

Dean nods. Not bothered in the least about Sam’s hunt for a job. Fuck, it’s amazing what a decent night’s sleep can do! “Find anything?”

“A couple possibilities. Mostly restaurants, although there’s a used bookstore that’s only a few blocks away. I could walk to that one.”

“You’ll be walking to any of them, Sammy-boy. No way in hell I’m letting you drive Baby on a regular basis,” Dean says with a grin. “‘Sides, a bookstore seems right up your alley. Let you geek out on a regular basis where I don’t have to see it.” He swipes a muffin from the bowl on the middle of the table. When did they get muffins? He shrugs and takes a large bite. “Go apply for it,” he says, mouth full of muffin. He waves it towards his brother. “I mean it.”

Sam picks a chunk of muffin off his paper with a roll of his eyes. “Think I will.” He stands up from the table and stretches. “I’m gonna go get dressed. Don’t forget your meds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says with a dismissive wave. 

“I mean it, Dean.” Sam’s voice echoes down the hallway.

*~*~*~*~

After Sam leaves to apply for his jobs, Dean wanders out of the house and slowly makes his way down to the little river behind the house. He’ll never admit it to Sam, or anyone else for that matter, but he finds that the peace and quiet of this place is able to offer him a modicum of relaxation, as long as he doesn’t dwell on past events. 

He reaches his favorite spot, a large, sandy boulder just underneath the hanging branches of a big oak tree. He climbs up, wincing as his chest pulls slightly. He rubs his chest, hoping his meds kick in soon to reduce the ache. 

Dean lays back against the sun-warmed rock and closes his eyes. The sound of the river running over the rocks lulls him as the heat soaks into his back, easing the tension that seems constantly locked in his muscles. 

He focuses on his breathing, taking as deep a breath as he is able and holding it in as long as he can. Each day it gets easier, but he is disappointed that he’s still not up to how he was before the cabin.

Eventually the sounds and warmth ease his way into sleep.

_Brown eyes turn yellow…_

_“Dean! No!” His brother’s voice calling for him..._

_“Dad! Dad. Don’t you let it kill me.”_

_Wetbloodpainyellowyellowyellow…_

_“Dad...please…”_

The ringing of Dean’s phone pulls him from the nightmare. He pushes himself up with a groan and grabs his phone from his pocket. “Yeah?” he rasps weakly. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice sounds concerned. 

He doesn’t reply right away. He feels wetness on his cheeks and reaches up, dismayed to feel tears silently leaking from his eyes. Fuck.

“Hey! Dean!” Sam sounds a little more urgent.

“Yeah, Sam. I’m here.”

“You sound like shit, dude,” Sam says after a beat.

Dean snorts. Thank fuck Sam can’t see him right now, or he’d be commenting on a lot more than just how he sounds. “‘M fine. Just woke up from a nap is all.” He punctuates the last bit with a yawn to prove his point.

“Oh. Okay.”

“What’s up?” Dean slides off the boulder and lands on his feet before turning and walking back towards the house. What time was it anyways?

“Well...I got a job!” Sam’s voice is excited as he announces his news to his brother. “The bookstore! I start tomorrow!”

Dean stops midway through his trek back to the house. “Hey, good for you, Sammy.” He tries to inject as much pride into his voice as he can. He’s proud. He _is._ But he is also worn down and hurting after yet another horrid nightmare, and he’s pretty sure Sam can hear that in his voice.

“Yeah…” Sam still sounds happy, if slightly deflated. “Why don’t I bring some pizza home to celebrate?”

That does bring a smile to Dean’s face. “That sounds like a good idea, Sam. l’ll even agree to you getting your girly Hawaiian.”

“Hey, that’s a great pizza, Dean. If you’d just try it-”

Dean interrupts Sam with a snort. “Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, Sammy. Not unless you have no taste. So I guess that’s why you like it.”

“It’s Sam. Fine I’ll get you your usual heart attack special, and I’ll get _myself_ a Hawaiian.”

“Sounds good.” Dean hangs up the phone and finishes the trek back to the house. 

*~*~*~*~

After dinner, the two brothers lean back with contented sighs. “So, what are you up to tonight?”

Dean hesitates. He really wants to go back and see Castiel, but it might seem strange if he doesn’t at least invite Sam to go out with him. “I uhh...think I might hit up a bar. See if there are any hunnies out.” At least one hunny in particular, anyways. “You uhh..want to come?” _Please say no, please say no, please-_

“Nah, I got an early start at work tomorrow.”

 _Yes!_ “Yeah. I understand.” Dean hopes he doesn’t sound as happy about that as he feels. Because taking his little brother to a fetish club bar would open up a whole world of questions Dean isn’t prepared to answer.

“How are your exercises coming?” Sam asks after a moment.

Dean grimaces and doesn’t answer. 

“You haven’t been doing them, have you?” his brother accuses, jaw clenching as he makes his patented Sammy-bitchface. “You’ll never get back to 100% if you don’t do the exercises, Dean.”

“Dude, please. I know how to take care of myself, have been my whole life. I’ve been doing them, okay? They just...suck is all.” Understatement of the year. And okay, maybe he told a tiny little fib. A fiblet. But he _has_ done them.

Sam leans back in his chair and eyes Dean carefully. Dean eyes him right back. Finally, Sam holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay. I just worry about you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Sam, I’m peachy.” He stands and stretches. “I’m gonna take a shower and head out. What time do you start tomorrow?”

“They’re training me for opening, so I have to be there at 8.”

Dean wrinkles his nose at the thought of getting up so early. Who the heck buys books at 8 in the morning anyways? “Well, have fun with that.”

Sam grins, as if he knows what Dean is thinking. “I will. You have fun too, man. See you when I get home.”

*~*~*~*~

Dean spends the next few days riding waves of incredible highs and depressed lows. On Thursday night Dean walks up to The Den and nods at Matt, the bouncer. He’s talked to him a bit when he comes. Nice guy. Easy on the eyes too.

“Just the bar again, Dean?” Matt asks as he holds the door open. “When are you gonna find a play partner?”

Dean grins. “Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

Matt snorts. “Not likely. It’s dead in there tonight.”

Perfect. Dean shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “Oh well. Maybe next time then,” he says as he heads on in.

Dean pauses at the door to the bar to straighten his T-shirt, then steps into the room, eyes immediately going to the long bar on the far side. Castiel immediately meets his eyes, and Dean’s chest warms.  
He heads over and pulls out a chair. “Hey, Cas,” he says warmly.

“Dean,” the other man replies. “It is good to see you again. Shall I get you a beer?”

“Sure, thanks!”

Cas moves away to get Dean a drink, and Dean grins when it is placed down in front of him. “Not busy today, huh?” he asks, noticing that the bar has only one other patron. Geez, Matt wasn’t kidding. There isn’t even a waitress on.

Cas looks around as well, and his mouth turns up into a small rueful grin as he offers a tiny shrug. “I don’t usually take the busy days. Usually if I am working a Friday or Saturday I am just filling in for someone.”

Dean arches an eyebrow. “You...prefer the slower days? That’s different.”

“I find I do not have very good people skills,” Cas sighs. 

“So then why are you a bartender?” 

Another shrug. “The pay is all right here, and I can pick my shifts.”

“Fair enough,” Dean agrees. “Can’t argue with a man who likes his freedom.”

Cas leans his elbows on the bar. “What about yourself, Dean? What do you do for a living?” 

_Shit._ What could he say to that? It’s not like he could say, _‘Well, me and my dad and my kid brother drove around the country hunting evil sons-of-bitches, until my brother killed my demon-possessed dad to save me.’_ What he says instead is, “I’m between jobs, I guess.”

This time it was Cas’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“Yeah. My dad was...was killed in a hunting accident recently. My brother and I are just trying to regroup from that.”

“I am sorry.” 

Dean shakes his head. “It is what it is. I just…” He trails off and clears his throat. Can’t think about that right now. “Anyways, m’ brother decided it would be a good idea to rent a house to have somewhere to ‘regroup’.” Dean finishes with a sigh and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You don't sound too happy about that, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says contritely. “I don’t mean to pry.”

Dean chuffs out a breath of air. “Naw, it’s okay. Just used to moving around a lot. Staying in one place is...Well, it doesn’t fit me.” And isn’t that an understatement. 

“Well, I am glad your brother decided to stay here.” Dean eyes fly up to meet Cas’s, who gives him a small smile. “I also have moved around a lot, and as such do not have people I would consider friends. Acquaintances, I have, but perhaps no true friends. I feel it would be a rather pleasant experience to get to know someone well enough to consider them a friend. Yourself, for example.”

Dean blinks at Castiel, and his lips turn up into a real smile. “Ah, Cas, shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?” 

Cas nods solemnly. “You are right, perhaps I should.”

Dean pauses. Okay, awkward, but he can work with this. “Well, I’m barbecuing some burgers on Saturday. My Uncle Bobby is gonna be in town. He lives up in Sioux Falls, so we barely see him lately. Why don’t you pop in too?”

“That sounds...delicious. Burgers make me very happy.”

“It’s settled then.” Dean stands and throws some money down on the bar, being sure to leave a generous tip for Cas. “Pass me a pen and paper and I’ll give you my address.” Cas does, and Dean writes on it and hands it back to him with a grin. “4 o’clock Saturday then,” he says.

Cas takes the paper and glances at it. “I will see you then, Dean.”

Dean gets out to the Impala and then freezes. Shit. What is he gonna tell Sam? His doofus brother will tease the ever-living fuck out of him. Dean thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. Whatever. If Sam is too much of an ass, he still has that itching powder he bought for a prank war in his bag. Could be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of Saturday dawned crisp and blue. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Dean jolts awake from a nightmare, a soundless cry on his lips as he half sits up. 

Realizing where he is, his head thumps back onto his pillow. He’s in the house that he and Sam rented, not the cabin. These nightmares are getting really old, really fast. He lets out the breath with a whoosh, and goes to get up.

The scar on his chest pulls, but it’s slowly getting better. The pain and stiffness are slowly receding. About fricking time. He gets up and pulls on his jeans, pairing them with his favorite black henley.

When he makes it out to the kitchen, he notices Sam is nowhere to be seen. What the hell? “Sam?” he calls. No answer. He glances around and notices a note with Sam’s handwriting scrawled across it. 

“Gone to the grocery store,” Dean reads aloud. “Breakfast in the fridge.” He wrinkles his brow. What time is it? He looks over at the clock above the stove. 11:30? Shit, he slept in. Been a long time since he’s done that. Stupid nightmares. 

Dean heads over to the fridge and opens it. All thoughts of his restless sleep fly out of his mind and he grins happily as he pulls out the heaping stack of bacon and sausage that Sam had left him. “Sammy boy, you are the best!” 

He just sits down to eat when thoughts of Cas pop into his head. “Shit!” Dean rushes to his room and grabs his cell off the nightstand. He pushes Sam’s number in and waits as it rings, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Dean, everything okay?” Sam’s voice answers on the fourth ring.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Did you, uhh...You still at the grocery store?” Dean asks.

“Yup. Need me to grab something else?”

“Just...I forgot to mention, I invited someone over to join us.” There’s a long pause. “Sam?”

“Sorry, yeah, I’m here. Did you say you invited someone over? Like, to our _house?_ ” 

Dean feels his jaw clench. “Yeah, I did. That a problem?”

“No! No, Dean. Just surprised me, is all! So who is it?”

“A friend. Look, I’ll explain more when you get home. Just wanted to make sure you got enough.”

Sam chuckles through the phone. “Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of food, even for you.”

Dean nods, even though Sam can’t see him over the phone. “Good. And don’t forget my onions, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replies, before hanging up with a click.

Dean stares at the phone in his hand for a brief moment, before he gives a little shrug and heads back to the kitchen to finish his breakfast. And figure out how he can describe Cas to his little brother. Oh joy.

*~*~*~*~

When Dean hears the familiar growl of the Impala heading up the drive he heads outside to help Sam with the groceries. His brother throws an impish grin his way as he unfolds his lanky body from the car. Dork. Dean rolls his eyes as he steps down from the old wrap-around porch. 

Sam pops the trunk and begins to pull out bags of groceries. “So,” he begins nonchalantly as he hands Dean a few of the bags. “Who is she?”

“He.”

Sam straightens and looks at Dean, his mouth dropping open in a slight ‘oh’ of surprise. Dean narrows his eyes at the look, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he straightens and juts his chin out, almost daring his brother to comment.

After a moment, Sam seems to recover himself. He nods, and instead asks, “What’s his name?”

“Castiel.” 

Another nod, before Sam unceremoniously shoves two more bags in Dean’s hands. “Cool name. Take those inside and then get back out here and help me with the rest, will ya?”

Dean relaxes at his brother’s lack of comment, and fixes his grip on the bags. “Not your pack mule, Sam.” But he heads inside anyways and returns for more bags.

Once the two empty the trunk, they start putting away the groceries. “So where did you meet Castiel?” Sam asks, nothing but curiosity in his voice.

Dean clears his throat as he turns around from where he was putting the beer into the fridge. “At a...bar I went to. He’s a bartender there,” he replies.

Sam offers him a small, knowing smile. “That where you been disappearing to all week?”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe. Look, Sam. Cas is a friend. And we connected...somehow.” He holds up his finger to stall Sam from saying anything girly. “And _you’re_ the one who said I needed to try to be normal while I heal up. And that means having a friend, right?”

Sam holds up his hands in the universal gesture of peace. “I’m not saying anything, Dean. I think it’s great, really.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Dean blinks for a moment. That was a lot easier than he thought it would be. Oh well. He’s not gonna be the one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Now get outta my kitchen. I got mouths to feed tonight, and I can’t get everything ready with your ginormous ass in here takin’ up all the room.”

Sam chuckles, and heads towards the back door. “The kitchen is all yours, Betty Crocker.” He manages to duck outside just as the wet dishcloth hits the wall where his head was a moment ago.

*~*~*~*~

Sam jumps up from the table when he hears Bobby’s old truck roll up the drive. “Bobby’s here!” he shouts, before rushing to the front door.

Dean rolls his eyes and grins before turning back to the salad he is preparing. Sam can be such a little kid sometimes. He hears the front screen door slam and Sam’s gigantic feet thud down the stairs.

A few minutes later, the two of them head back into the house and into the kitchen.

“Hey, boy,” Bobby’s gruff voice says from behind him.

Dean turns around and smirks at his surrogate uncle. “Hey, old man.” He puts down the knife he was using to chop up the tomatoes and grabs Bobby in a one armed hug. A manly hug. Because they are both men, and Dean doesn’t do girly hugs like Sam. Ever.

Bobby pulls away and holds Dean at arms length, eyeing him up and down critically before nodding to himself. “You look tired, Dean.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well, haven’t been sleeping much.” He turns back to the salad before Bobby can say anything else. He can feel Bobby’s eyes staring at his back, and he straightens his shoulders back. Leave it alone. Please just _leave it alone._

After a moment, Bobby huffs then steps back away to the front door. Thank God. When he comes back in, a familiar chink perks Dean’s ears up. Bobby drops the cases of beer on the counter with a loud thunk. Dean’s eyes light up at the sight. “Awesome! Thanks, Bobby!”

Sam follows Bobby into the kitchen. “Yeah, thanks Bobby. But you didn’t have to. We have beer.”

Bobby grabs a beer from one of the cases with a snort. “It’s a housewarming present, ya idjit.” At Sam’s raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. “Well I’m not gonna get you some pretty plants there, sorry princess. Now, why don’t you show me around this joint?”

Sam nods eagerly, happy to be able to show off his and Dean’s slice of normal, no matter if it’s only temporary or not. “Yeah, sure! Come on.”

Bobby meets Dean’s eyes over his beer bottle, and nods at him before following Sam out the kitchen door. Dean can hear Sam happily chatting away at Bobby as he shows him their rooms, before they head outside to lean on the porch rails. 

Dean is just cracking another beer when he hears Bobby’s voice drift in through the open kitchen window. He sets the bottle down carefully and quietly moves to stand closer. “Your brother seems to be doing okay, considering. Little worn about the edges, but that’s understandable.”

A sigh. That would be Sam. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Some days...some days it’s pretty rough. Nightmares, zone-outs. And that’s not counting the physical issues like pain and stiffness.” 

Dean makes a face. Sam and his goddamn big mouth. 

“Gonna take some time to heal up after what he’s been through.”

“Yeah.” 

Dean pokes his head around and sneaks a glance through the window. He can see Sam and Bobby leaning forward on their elbows, looking over the trees and watching a flock of ducks fly up from the river that runs past the edge of their property. The sun is just starting to lower behind the horizon, giving everything a slight pinkish glow. “But some days he seems all right. Like today. I think that maybe Castiel has something to do with it.”

Oh for fuck's sake...

“Castiel? Who the hell is that?”

“Some friend Dean’s been hanging out with all week. A bartender. He’s coming to dinner tonight I guess. So we’ll get to meet him.”

“Friend, huh?” Dean can hear the grin in Bobby’s voice. 

Before Sam can answer, the sickly rumble of an engine makes its way to their ears. Dean winces as the engine cuts out with a sputter. Wow. That does _not_ sound good at all. 

He rushes out of the kitchen and through the front door. He is greeted by the same car he had parked next to the first night at The Den. For some reason, that thought makes him smile. “Cas! You made it! What the hell is wrong with your car?”

Castiel climbs out of the car wearing a long tan trenchcoat despite the early fall warmth in the air, his hair disheveled and sticking up in all directions. Underneath the coat, a rumpled white dress shirt and off-center blue tie complete the ensemble.

Cas looks down at the car and gives a noncommittal shrug. “It has always been like this.” He immediately steps over to Dean and enfolds him in a hug. Dean stiffens. Not because it is uncomfortable or anything, but it completely catches him off guard. Not to mention Sam and Bobby would _totally_ make fun of him for hugging a guy. But Sam and Bobby are around back right now, so Dean brings his own arms up and awkwardly hugs Cas back.

Cas pulls his arms away but doesn’t step back, he looks into Dean’s eyes, a wide smile on his slightly chapped lips. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hi, Cas,” Dean replies softly. Suddenly, a plank of wood on the porch groans, and Castiel and Dean jump apart, eyes flying towards the porch. A flush creeps up Dean’s cheeks as his wide eyes take in their audience. Shit, shit, _shit_! How much did they see? 

Cas is quick to recover, however, and with a glance back to Dean, he steps forward with his hand outstretched. “Hello, I am Castiel.” He eagerly shakes Sam and Bobby’s hands.

Introductions finished, Dean pushes him past the other two. As they head inside, Dean can hear Bobby mutter to Sam under his breath, “You sure they’re just friends?” He can feel his face get even hotter all the way into the kitchen. Ugh, Sam’s never gonna let him live this down.


	4. Chapter 4

“Your brother is very tall,” Castiel whispers in Dean’s ear as they step into the kitchen.

Dean barks out a laugh at that, and claps Cas on the shoulder. “Sure is, man. You have any clue how annoying it is to have a little brother that’s taller than you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just hands Cas a beer before turning and grabbing the hamburger patties he had painstakingly slaved over. 

He heads out the back door to where the old barbecue stood, one wheel missing and making it lopsided. Half the lid handle is also gone, but who cares? Dean had never had a barbecue of his own, and he is taking full advantage of the dingy little thing. 

Cas follows him out the back, and Dean is acutely aware of his closeness. He pushes down the odd fluttering in his stomach and swallows heavily as he lights the barbecue. The sounds of Bobby and Sam talking in the living room float out through the open window and Dean focuses on trying to hear what they are saying. Probably talking about him. Assholes.

“Dean,” Cas’s gravel voice startles him and he covers that fact by reaching for his beer that is resting on the old rail. 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, his throat suddenly dry. What the hell is it about Cas? He takes a large gulp of beer and keeps his eyes down at the hamburger patties, swiping at a fly that landed near the meat.

“Look at me,” Cas demands softly, his voice lowering slightly.

Dean’s gaze flies up to meet Cas’s, unable to disobey that tone even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. Right? He gulps.

Castiel’s mouth knowingly turned up at the corner at Dean’s response. He bobs his head, as if confirming something to himself. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

“Hey, glad you could come.” 

Cas settles himself down on one of the deck chairs as Dean turns back to the burgers. “Can I ask you a question, Dean?”

Dean pauses, but keeps his eyes on the food. “Shoot.” He picks up the sauce and starts basting the burgers.

“What made you come into The Den?”

Shit. “Was thirsty,” Dean says.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean,” Cas admonishes gently before repeating, “Why did you come to The Den? What were you looking for?” The command in Cas’s voice is obvious. What happened to the quiet bartender? This version of Cas is different. And thrilling. Definitely thrilling.

Dean puts down the brush and takes a deep breath before turning back towards Cas. “I had a fight with Sam earlier that night. I just...I just wanted a distraction.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Didn’t realize I wouldn’t even be able to get into that part of the club.”

“Do you have any...experience with fetish clubs?” Cas asks curiously, tilting his head as he watches Dean intently.

Dean squirms a bit under the attention. He just met Castiel, but already feels more of a connection to him than he ever did to any of his past hookups. Male or female. Which is why he doesn’t pull back when Cas stands and moves in front of him.

“Dean?”

“No,” he replies quietly. “Had a couple partners a few times that were into that sort of thing.” He raises a hand and scratches at his chin. “Tried a few things here and there, I guess.”

“I see.” Cas raises his hand towards Dean’s face and swipes his thumb across the stubble that adorns Dean’s chin, cleaning up the barbecue sauce that Dean had smeared on there. He raises his thumb to his mouth and sucks the sauce off, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face.

Dean’s eyes track the movement. He pulls a breath in sharply when Cas sucks off the sauce. Damn, that was hot! He feels a jolt of heat that shoots straight to his cock as he imagines Cas sucking on other things. Yup, very, very hot.

The sound of Sam’s footsteps heading towards the back door cause Dean to whirl back around to the barbecue. He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of the nastiest fuglies he’s ever killed, successfully dousing the fire in his groin just as he hears the back door open. Thank fuck.

“Hey guys,” Sam says as he steps onto the porch, planks creaking under his weight. “Need any help, Dean?”

“‘M good,” Dean replies casually as he flips the burgers. “Almost done.” He turns towards his brother. “Where’s Bobby?” 

Sam grins. “Looking over my book collection. I got a few new books from work that I thought would interest him.”

Dean rolls his eyes and snorts. Nerds, the both of them. “You’re not gonna make any money if you keep spending it before you leave work, Sam,” he chides good-naturedly. 

“What is it that you do, Sam?” Cas asks curiously.

Sam straightens his shoulders proudly as he looks at Cas. “I just got a job at a used bookstore. Started on Tuesday.”

“Ah,” Castiel nods sagely. “Audrey’s.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Yeah,” he says. “How did you know?”

Cas chuckles, a low deep sound that causes Dean to bite his lip. “It’s the only used bookstore anywhere near here. I just used deductive reasoning to conclude that that would be the place that hired you,” he replies.

Dean burst out laughing at that. “He got you there, Sam. Hand me that plate there, would ya?” He takes the plate Sam hands him and begins to pile the burgers on it.

“Geez, Dean. Make enough burgers?” Sam eyes the plate as the hamburger patties threaten to fall over.

“There can never be enough burgers, Sammy.” He shuts the lid of the barbecue and picks up the plate. “Let’s eat!” He heads into the kitchen, all too aware of Cas following him. 

Bobby comes in from the living room. “Oh good, I’m starvin’,” he says, eyeing the plate in Dean’s hands. 

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. “I’m here to serve, old man.” He puts the burgers down at the table and pulls out a chair. “Please, have a seat,” he says, motioning at Bobby.

Bobby snorts, but sits down in the proffered chair. “Don’t mind if I do, boy. ‘Bout time you started respecting your elders.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always respectful,” Dean says with an impish grin, before turning to Cas as Sam grabs drinks for everyone. “Sit,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from Bobby.

Castiel sits with a nods of thanks. Dean plunks the potato salad down in the middle of the table and sits down beside him.

And if his knees keep rubbing Cas’s during dinner, well, it’s not his fault their table is so small.

*~*~*~*~

After a successful dinner that left everybody stuffed full, Dean hauls Cas outside in the pretense of examining his car. In reality, he just wants another chance to get Castiel alone, but he might as well see what the hell is making that God-awful racket in the vehicle while he’s at it. They leave Sam and Bobby cleaning up the dishes.

Dean grabs a light and extension cord from a box on the porch and plugs it in. “Pop your hood for me, Cas.”

When he hears the latch release, he lifts up the hood, wincing at the creak that sounds. It’s even louder than Baby. He hooks the light onto the hood and turns it on, before leaning into to see what’s what. God, it’s dirty…

When Cas presses up behind him, it’s unexpected and he jumps, nearly hitting his head on the hood. “Jesus, Cas,” he gasps, before turning around.

Castiel puts his hands on either side of Dean, effectively trapping him against the car. Dean’s eyes flick briefly towards the window before flying back to Cas. He swallows as Cas leans even closer.

“Dean, I very much would like to kiss you right now,” Cas whispers into his ear. “And if my feelings are correct, I believe you would like the same.” He pulls back slightly as smirks as Dean’s eyes widen. “Am I correct in my assumption?”

Dean can only nod before Cas reaches one hand up and draws their lips together. Fuckin’ finally!

The kiss starts gentle and somewhat tentative, until Dean growls against Cas’s lips and pulls Cas in deeper, and Cas responds enthusiastically. They nip at each other’s lips and their stubble scratches roughly against the other’s. The kiss lacks any kind of deftness, but both are too caught up in the moment to care. 

When they finally break apart, Dean is breathless, and Cas appears much the same. Cas’s lips are slick and reddened, and Dean flicks his tongue over his own.

“I have wanted to do that since I first saw you,” confessed Castiel. He still is pressed against Dean, and his hand remains on the back of Dean’s head. 

“Yeah,” Dean rasps. “Yeah, me too.” Frickin’ amazing. When Cas leans in for another quick kiss, Dean is only too happy to comply.

“Come to my place tomorrow,” Cas says. “We can talk without any interruptions.” At Dean’s nod, he steps back.

Dean takes a moment to compose himself, then turns back to the engine. “Okay, go turn it on for me.”

*~*~*~*~

Dean pulls up to the address Cas gave him the next day with butterflies in his stomach and his breath catching in his throat. He turns off the Impala’s engine and climbs out and peers up at the large log house that sits at the end of the long drive.

Wow. It’s gorgeous, but certainly not what he was expecting, which was probably something more...quaint. The front of the house seems to be all window, and through the top ones Dean catches a view of high ceilings. The privacy is awesome too, no nosey neighbours to peer in through all those windows. Handy.

The front door opens and Castiel steps out and down the stairs, a big smile on his face. He’s wearing his suit pants, but this time he has on a blue shirt with the collar undone. He looks _hot_. That shirt really brings out the blue in his eyes. When Dean gets close enough he can see dark wisps of hair curling through the open collar, and holy _fuck_ he wants to run his hands through them.

He opens his mouth to greet Cas but the other man pulls him in for a kiss before he is able to get anything out. When he is released, he grins widely. “Hello to you too, Cas,” he says.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies. He steps up and holds the door open. “Please, come in.”

When Dean steps into the foyer and looks around, the first thing he is aware of is the light that comes in through the windows. The room feels bright and airy. A comfy looking couch and chair set sits in front of a stone fireplace, and a bookshelf rests up against the far wall. 

“Nice place, Cas,” Dean comments as he pulls off his boots and follows him towards the kitchen. 

“Thank you, Dean. My uncle left it for me when he passed away a couple years ago.”

“Thought you said you don’t talk to your family.” Dean leans against the granite counter of the island and looks at Cas curiously.

Cas shrugs. “I don’t. My uncle was also a...black sheep if you will. He was the only one who accepted me as I am.” He places a cup of coffee in front of Dean, who takes a sip. “He couldn’t judge me, being gay just as I am.” He fixes his own coffee and motions Dean towards the dining table. 

“So you asked me last night about my...experience with fetish clubs,” Dean scratches the back of his neck with one hand. Cas looks at him calmly and nods. “Uhhh...I guess I’m wondering...I mean…” He trails off. He feels awkward and fidgets in his seat. This is a totally new experience for him, feeling awkward around a lover. He doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“You’re asking if _I_ have any experience with BDSM?” Cas finishes for him.

Dean nods.

“Yes. That was how I got the job at The Den in the first place. The former manager was a play sub of mine and got me a job there after he found a permanent Dom.” Castiel chuckles at the widening of Dean’s eyes. He correctly reads the unspoken question in Dean’s eyes. “Yes, I am a Dominant. I have switched occasionally, but I much prefer topping.”

The thought of Cas dominating causes Dean’s jeans to tighten uncomfortably. He had never really given much thought to it before, but now, with Cas…

“Tell me, Dean. In your previous experience, were you top or bottom?”

Dean shrugs. “Depended on who I was with.”

“Did you have a preference?”

“Again, depended on who I was with. I guess I mostly topped the girls, except for this one time. God, she was a freak.” Dean grins impishly and closes his eyes at the memory. Freaky. And bendy. “Yoga instructor.” Dean opens his eyes and looks at Castiel, who has a strange look on his face. “I’m bi,” Dean explains. “Girls, guys, doesn’t matter to me as long as they are warm and willing.”

Cas tilts his head slightly. “And the men? Did you top or bottom for them?”

“Man. Just one that was into that. He uhh...He topped me.” Dean chews on his lip. “It was pretty awesome, not gonna lie.”

Castiel chuckles. “I am glad you had a positive experience with it. And now I have a very important question for you. Are you willing to try being my submissive, Dean?” 

Dean’s mouth goes dry and he feels his face warm at the thought. “We could try that, yeah.” 

Castiel smiles widely and pushes himself out of the chair. He moves over to Dean and leans down to place a kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Dean,” he says happily.

*~*~*~*~

Cas sits down with a pen and paper. Dean looks at him curiously. “What’s that for?” he asks.

“We need to establish boundaries and rules. I will write them down for now, and then draw up a contract for us after.”

Contract? What the fuck? “Uhhh, Cas...Why the hell do we need to do that? Why can’t we just, ya know, have kinky sex?” Lots and _lots_ of kinky sex...

Cas laughs. “We will have ‘kinky sex’,” he uses air quotations, “but entering into a BDSM relationship is much more than just sex, Dean. As your Dominant, I have certain rules I expect you to follow, and I expect you have limitations to what you will do. A contract just defines those expectations for both of us, that’s all.”

Oh. “Yeah, I understand.” Dean rests his head in one hand and grins over at Cas. “Okay, hit me.”

“We should discuss impact play before I proceed to hit you, Dean.” 

Dean covers his chuckle up with one hand. “It’s a figure of speech, Cas. I just meant let’s get started.”

Castiel nods. “Ah yes, I understand. Okay then. First of all, I need to know if you are clean. I prefer no condom, but in order for that to happen I have to make sure you have no sexually-transmitted diseases.”

Dean blinks in surprise. It’s a valid question, just not one he expected. “Yeah. That’s one thing I was always careful of.”

Cas smiles widely at him. “Perfect. Well, why don’t you start with your limits, things you absolutely will not do, so I have a better idea of rules I am able to set. We can go over the basics, but I am sure we will learn more limits as we go. We can add those later.”

“Well, I don’t really know everything there is,” Dean says and rubs the back of his neck. “I know there’s ropes and shit, and some spanking. And piss, but I’m not okay with _that_ ,” he wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Fair enough. I do not enjoy watersports either. Are you okay with being tied up and spanking?”

Normally getting tied up would be a bad thing in Dean’s line of work. But with Cas it might be fun. “I guess so,” Dean responds with a shrug. “I’d be willing to try it, anyways.”

Cas smiles at him and makes a note on the paper. “What about gags, blindfolds, and plugs?”

“Sure.” 

Another note. “Hot wax?”

Wax? Weird, but okay. “Yeah.”

“Chastity and orgasm control?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably at the thought of his cock being locked in a cage. “The orgasm control sounds hot, but the chastity? Uhh..maybe? I don’t really know.”

“That’s fine, Dean. This is a guideline. A starting point. It can change and evolve, the same as our relationship.” Cas says warmly. “Some Doms prefer to set their contracts in stone, but I do not believe in doing so.”

Dean releases a heavy breath. Yeah, okay. “That’s good,” he says.

“What is your safeword?” Cas asks him.

“Impala.” Dean answers instantly. That is a given. The Impala has always equaled safe in his mind.

Cas writes down Dean’s response before leaning back against the couch. “You will use the safeword ‘Impala’ if you need to stop play for any reason. Let me know if you have anything to add. But now I am going to go over _my_ rules.” Dean swallows heavily. “When we are playing, you will address me as ‘Sir’. I do not expect you to call me that when we are not playing unless you wish to, or unless I have given you prior instructions to. Do you understand?”

Dean nods. He knows orders, he can follow them. “Yes, Sir,” he replies, trying it out. He has spent so much of his life saying those exact words, they flow naturally from his mouth. With those words he feels a part of him that has been missing click into place.

Castiel smiles. “Very good. I also require you to be naked at all times in my house, unless I give you something I wish for you to wear instead.”

Oh. Shit. He never thought of that. Dean sucks on his bottom lip and stares at the floor. His scars. They have always been a point of pride for him, but now...

“Dean?” Cas questions softly. “Is something wrong?”

He raises his eyes to Cas’s. “No. Yes. I have this...scar.” Cas doesn’t say anything, just waits for Dean to continue. “It happened the night my dad was...killed.” He closes his eyes.

“I thought you said your father was killed in a hunting accident,” Cas says quietly.

“He was. But, I was there. Me and Sam. He was shot. Someone...thought he was something else..It was an accident. He...We…” Dean feels his chest begin to close up. “There was a car accident. Sam and I were trying to get him to a hospital. But I was already hurt…” He gasps for a breath, and then another, and suddenly Cas is there.

“Dean, you must calm down,” Cas soothes. “Breathe with me. It’s all right.” He presses Dean’s head against his chest and breathes deeply.

Dean and Cas sit like that for a few minutes, Cas breathing deeply and Dean matching him as best he able. He is able to catch himself before he falls too far into that hole where he loses himself. He hates that place, as much as he hates himself for feeling it. 

After is he is able to compose himself, he pulls back. He is embarrassed and can’t look Cas in the eyes. The humiliation is thick and clogs his throat. “Sorry. ‘M sorry,” he mutters. Fuck, he never used to be like this. He’s weak now...

Cas tilts Dean’s head up until their eyes meet. “Dean, you have nothing to apologize for.” When Dean goes to lower his eyes again, Cas tightens his grip slightly. “No. You do not need to apologize. You have done nothing wrong.”

Oh, but he did. He couldn’t stop the demon. Couldn’t stop Sam. Couldn’t-”Mmpf.” A hard kiss is pressed against his lips and thoughts of the cabin vanish as his whole focus is taken up with Cas. Cas and his lips and his tongue that is determined to explore every inch of Dean’s mouth. Dean relaxes into the kiss.

When Castiel pulls away, Dean is more relaxed and looks at him fondly. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Let me see, Dean.” Cas reaches for the hem of Dean’s t-shirt. Dean hesitates, but allows Cas to pull the shirt over his head. He looks over Cas’s shoulder, not wanting to see his reaction to the scar. When he feels gentle kisses against the puckered skin, his eyes fly down in surprise. 

Cas lifts his head to look at Dean. “I do not care about any scars, Dean. They are a part of you, and show your strength to overcome.” He lays another kiss against the scar before again kissing Dean’s lips. 

Dean feels a part of himself unwind at Castiel’s acceptance, and he rolls his eyes. “You’re so cheesy, Cas,” he says. It’s nice, though. He can deal with cheese.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean gets out of the Impala and shoves his hands in his pockets, head down as he trudges up towards their house. In his head he is turning over the talk that he had with Castiel. He’d be lying to himself if he says he isn’t nervous, but there is also a warm thrill there too. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes narrowed in focus. 

His foot is on the bottom step of the front porch when he is startled by a gruff voice off to his right. “Dean?” Geez, hunter senses are gonna need some fine tuning when he gets his game back.

Dean’s eyes fly up to meet Bobby’s. “Bobby! Hey, didn’t see you there.” He moves over to sit in the chair beside Bobby.

Bobby snorts at him and hands him a beer from the cooler at his feet. “Didn’t look like you were seein’ much of anything but the ground.” He closes the book he was reading and puts it down on the rickety table in between them before leaning back and regarding Dean calmly. “Everything okay?”

Dean offers him a small smile. “Yeah, was just thinking, is all.”

“Let me guess, did it have anything to do with a certain guy with black hair and a trenchcoat?” 

Damn. Is it that obvious? Dean feels his face heat up and he takes a large gulp of his beer to cover it up and offering Bobby a shrug in response. “Was just wondering if it was worth it to fix up the porch.” Dean says the first lie that comes to his mind. He offers Bobby a smile, but it’s weak and doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s looking pretty….shitty.” Inwardly, he winces. Damn, that sounds so fake, Bobby’ll never buy it.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: don’t try to con a conman, boy.” Bobby takes a sip of his own beer and waits for the truth.

Damn. Saw that coming. “Fine. Yes, I was thinking of Cas,” Dean admits. He sighs and leans forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, staring at the peeling blue paint of the floorboards. He is unable to look Bobby in the eyes and see the judgement that he knows will be there.

Silence reigns for a moment, and then Bobby’s speaking. “You worried about what I’m gonna think of ya?” There is a slightly chastising tone in Bobby’s voice, and Dean grimaces and lifts his eyes to meet the older man’s, seeing the acceptance in them. He doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Bobby is continuing. “Boy, I’ve known you damn near your whole life, and I never judged you for nuthin’, so what the hell makes you think I’ll start now?” He pauses, and looks at Dean with a considering look on his face. “‘Sides, you two would make a cute couple.”

Dean flushes even more. “Aww, Bobby,” he groans. Then he smiles, a real one this time. “Thanks.” He sits up straighter. Gotta change the subject, it’s steering dangerously close to chick flick territory. He can practically smell the estrogen in the air. “Where’s Sam?” he asks.

“Went for a run.” Bobby sits back and picks his book back up, obviously just as finished with his little ‘pep talk’ as Dean is. Dean stands and heads to the door, only to be stopped by Bobby calling his name. He turns back. Please, no more girl talk…

“Grab me another beer while you’re up. You drank my last one.”

*~*~*~*~

Dean lays on his bed, staring at the yellowing popcorn ceiling above him. It’s so weird, thinking of himself as a submissive. He’s always put so much emphasis on his strength, it’s hard for him to be the one to give up that. Oh sure, Cas assured him before he left that it was truly the sub who has the ultimate control, but still…He can’t help but feel weak for wanting this. And fuck, he does want this. He wants Cas and what Cas is offering him so bad. There’s nothing wrong with him for wanting that, is there?

He’s interrupted from his musing by a knock at the door. He glances at it before looking at the ceiling. “Hi, Sam. How was your run?”

He hears Sam move into the room towards the bed. “It was good. How was your visit with Cas? Bobby told me that’s where you went this morning.”

Dean can hear the thinly-veiled interest in Sam’s voice. Fucking Bobby. Dude has to learn to keep his mouth shut. “It was fan-fucking-tastic, thanks,” he growls.

Sam pushes Dean’s leg over and sits down beside him. “You don’t need to get snippy, Dean. I was just asking.”

“I’m not being _snippy_. You’re just overly sensitive.” Dean tears his eyes off the ceiling and looks at his brother. “And who the hell says snippy anyways?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Well, you just did, for one. Seriously, Dean. I was just curious.” He settles himself against the headboard, causing Dean to have to scoot further or be pressed right up against his brother like they were cuddling. Which is a complete no-go. 

“Fuckin’ gigantor bed hog,” Dean mutters, but obligingly moves over. “Could’ve at least changed out of your running clothes before you sit on _my_ bed.”

After a minute, Sam pipes up, “So why didn’t you ever tell me you were gay?”

“Jesus christ, Sam!” Dean pushes himself up and stares at his brother, mouth twisting down in a scowl. “‘M not gay. Jesus fuck.”

Sam doesn’t back down, just holds his hands up placatingly. “I saw how you were with Castiel. And there’s nothing wrong if you ar-”

“I’m not gay!” Dean shouts, before wincing and lowering his voice. “I know there’s nothing wrong with it, Sam. It’s not that.” Sam’s just staring at him with wide eyes, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I’m bi, okay? Happy now?” Fucking hell. He didn’t think how awkward discussing his sexual preferences with his brother would be. For some reason it was easy with Bobby. But _Sam_...Hell, he practically _raised_ the kid. And he had always flaunted his sexual prowess with women around him, but had kept him completely in the dark about the few dudes he slept with. He squeezes his eyes closed and scrubs a hand down his face. He can feel his lungs tightening up, and takes some deep breaths to calm himself before they start to seize. God, that’s the last thing he needs right now. Sam’s hand touches his shoulder, and his attempt to shrug it off fails. 

“Dude, calm down,” Sam says quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Dean sighs. Fuck, he hates this. This walking on eggshells all the time around each other, just so his stupid injuries wouldn’t remind them of their presence. Damn it. “Naw, Sammy. I’m the one who should be sorry. Didn’t mean to yell at you.” He chews his bottom lip before coming to a decision. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, truth is, Cas and I...have a thing. Maybe. Sort of.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “Sort of?” He takes his hand off Dean’s shoulder and uses it to punch Dean playfully. “How do you have a sort of thing? ‘Cause it looked like a pretty sure thing last night at Cas’s car.” 

Dean flushes beet red. “You...you _saw_ that?” he chokes out. How? He checked the damn windows...

Sam shrugs and grins. “Sure. I think the only thing that could’ve made that more romantic was if he handed you a bouquet of red roses.” He chuckles, before making a kissy face. “ _Oh Cas, kiss me, Cas_ ,” he pantomimes a sloppy kiss. He is too busy fluttering his eyelashes all dramatic-like that he doesn’t see the arm that shoots out before he is pushed off of the bed and onto the floor with an undignified squawk.

Dean looks over the edge of the bed at his brother. “I might be temporarily sidelined, Sammy-boy, but if you ever make stupid faces like that at me again, I will kick your ass. You look like a fuckin’ dork.” The smile in his voice is obvious though as he leans back and settles himself comfortably. Sam is okay with it. With him. The relief is almost palpable. “Now get outta here. You need a shower, you stink.”

*~*~*~*~

Dean is in the middle of making dinner when his phone beeps. He puts down the spoon he was using to stir the pot of chili and pulls it out of his pocket. He can’t contain the smile that crosses his face when he sees it’s from Castiel.

_Hello dean_

_Hey cas_ , he types back. He turns and leans against the counter. _Hows it goin?_. After a minute the reply comes. Dean grins.

_I am well, thank you. I have taken tomorrow off work. Do you have any plans? I would like you to come over._

He doesn’t even try to deny the thrill he gets when he reads the text. He grins and bites his lip even as his fingers punch in the reply. _Sure. What time_

Dean waits for the response, and when he doesn’t get one after a few minutes, he shrugs and turns back to the chili. He is just stirring in a bar of milk chocolate, his secret ingredient, when his phone alerts him to a reply.

_4:00. I will make you dinner._

_Sounds great. C u then_

_Yes. I will see you tomorrow._

Dean is still staring at his phone when Sam and Bobby wander into the kitchen. 

“Everything okay, Dean?” Sam asks with a raised eyebrow in his direction.

Dean looks up at them and grins widely. “Yup. You’re on your own for dinner tomorrow, Sammy,” he crows. “Don’t burn the kitchen down!” 

Bobby chuckles. “Someone got a dinner date?”

“Shut up. At least I _have_ a date. Unlike two other people I know.” He reaches up and pulls down a few bowls. “Dinner’s ready, folks. Sit your asses down and prepare your mouths for the best tasting chili this side of the border.”

Bobby and Sam sit at the table, hungrily eyeing the chili-laden bowls that Dean puts down in front of them. The aroma fills the kitchen, and Sam’s stomach rumbles in anticipation. “This looks awesome, Dean.”

“I know,” Dean says with a smile. “Dig in.” He takes the first bite and nods to himself. Yup. It is awesome. No surprise there. “When are you heading out, Bobby?” he asks after he swallows.

“Probably just after dinner. Got a long drive ahead of me.”

Sam frowns. “Why don’t you just stay another night? Drive home in the morning?” Dean nods along with that suggestion. Makes more sense than driving at night.

“Nah. I gotta check some things out for another hunter. Possible wendigo in Pennsylvania.” 

Sam and Dean both perk up at that. “Anything we can help with?” Dean asks. 

Bobby just shakes his head before pointing his spoon at Dean. “You need to rest, boy. Not go gallivanting off into the hunt. Damn fool kid.”

“Gallivanting?” Dean makes a face and looks between the two. “What the hell is up with you two and your weird words?” He rolls his eyes and shovels another spoonful of food into his mouth. “‘M not gonna hunt, Bobby. But geek boy here can research and I can offer my insightful opinions.”

Sam grins. “Insightful opinions?”

“Damn straight. I’m a very insightful person.” He pauses and considers a moment before adding, “And opinionated. So yeah. Insightful opinions.”

Bobby shakes his head ruefully at them. “I appreciate the offer, boys, but I can handle this on my own. ‘Sides, as comfortable as your couch isn’t, I’m lookin’ forward to sleepin’ in my own bed.”

Dean can understand that well enough, having his own bed is pretty sweet after crap motel beds for the past 22 years. One thing he will miss when he starts hunting again. He shrugs and finishes up the last of his chili. “Fair enough. But make sure you come visit soon. Not the same without you around.”

“Yeah. You’re always welcome here, Bobby, anytime,” Sam adds, a meaningful look on his face.

“I better be. I put your asses up enough times over the years.” Bobby’s gruff reply doesn’t fool either Sam or Dean. But neither say anything about the wetness in the older man’s eyes. Their house is a little dusty, after all.

*~*~*~*~

Sam and Dean watch Bobby’s truck disappear down the drive, after a fair warning to Dean to take it easy or there would be Hell to pay. When the tail lights disappear around the corner, Sam claps his brother on the shoulder and turns to head back inside. 

“Come on, Dean. We can watch a movie or something before bed.” Dean continues to stare after the truck, seemingly not hearing a word Sam says. Sam turns back to his brother. “Dean? You okay?”

Truth was, another thought had hit him after talking at the dinner table to Bobby. His bed isn’t going to be the only thing he will miss when he starts hunting again. What about Cas? What will happen to them?

“Dean!” Sam’s voice is louder this time, and Dean jumps slightly before looking at him. 

“What?” he asks roughly.

“What’s wrong? You can’t miss Bobby already, he just left, dude. I didn’t think you were that attached.” The concern in Sam’s voice belies the joking words. 

Dean waves Sam away. “Nah, not that,” he sighs. He looks down at his hands, twirling his ring around his finger absently. 

“What, then?” 

There’s no disguising the concern now. Just Sam and his concern and his dang puppy dog face. Damn it. Dean can never say no to that freakin’ look, and Sam knows it. Asshole. 

He heaves a big sigh before he turns and starts to head up the porch, making a detour to the chairs on the side. Sam follows, just as Dean knew he would. Huh. Maybe he really was a puppy in another life.

“Just thinking ‘bout when we go back to hunting,” he says quietly.

Sam looks confused. “Ummm… I thought you _wanted_ to hunt again.”

Dean stares at his brother disbelievingly. God, he’s gonna make him spell it out for him. “I do, dork. I have to. It’s who I am. I just…” He scratches behind his ear. “It’s just…”

Suddenly it’s as though the light clicks on in Sam’s head. He sits down with a thunk, eyes widening in understanding. “Castiel.”

Bingo. Dean nods and chews on his lower lip. “Yeah. Him,” Dean mutters. “Fuck, I barely know the guy and already it’s like…” He trails off and shrugs helplessly.

“You’re attached. There’s nothing wrong with that, Dean.” Sam leans back on his chair and eyes Dean. “And when we start hunting again, we-I mean, you will just have to cross that bridge when you come to it. But for now, just enjoy what you have. Nothing says you can’t still keep in touch or anything when we leave.” He clears his throat. “Or we could...uhhh...have a home base…” Sam trails off hopefully. 

Dean snorts. Of course Sam would bring that up. “You know we can’t do that, Sam. We’d have to keep up with rent, bills, everything.”

“Why not? Bobby does it. I’ll save up from work, and that way you can still see Cas!”

Sam’s voice is getting faster and louder as he talks. Great. Now the doofus is excited. Still, he has a point...If they can save up enough, then maybe… Dean crosses his arms and stares at Sam’s hopeful face. “We’ll see.” When Sam opens his mouth to say something, Dean holds up a finger and points it in his brother’s face. “‘M not saying no, Sammy. Let’s just see what happens first, okay?” If this thing- whatever it is- with Cas works out, then it’s definitely an option to consider. That’s awesome. And the answering smile on Sam’s face is pretty awesome, too.


	6. Chapter 6

When Dean steps up to Castiel’s door at five to four, his stomach is doing flip-flops. He rings the doorbell, and as he waits for Cas to come answer the door, he tugs down the bottom of his t-shirt. He chose this particular shirt because it hugs his body just right to show of his muscle tone, but he’s already doubting his selection because it keeps hiking up. Oh well. Hopefully he won’t be wearing it for long.

Cas swings the door open, looking rather frazzled. His hair is sticking out in every direction even more than usual, as though Cas ran his fingers through it several times, and that ever present tie is loose and swung over one shoulder. “Dean!” he cries. There is a distinct odor of _burnt _wafting through the door behind him, and faint tendrils of smoke curling up around the ceiling. Well, that explains the crazy look anyways.__

__“Uhhh, hi Cas…” Dean rocks forward on his toes and peers over Cas’s shoulder into the kitchen. “Is...everything okay?”_ _

__Cas steps back to allow Dean to enter. “No! I was attempting to make you dinner, but I fear I have messed it up.” He hurries back to the kitchen, motioning Dean to follow him. “I was following a recipe I found on the internet. It said to broil the pasta, but after I had put it in the oven and hit the broil button, the fire alarm went off and there was so much smoke…”_ _

__Cas is talking almost too frantic for Dean to make out, and he has to pause to work it out in his head. Once he does though, he bursts out laughing. Cas looks hurt at the laughter, but Dean can’t help himself. He claps Castiel on the shoulder and tries to catch his breath._ _

__Cas crosses his arms and tilts his head at Dean. “It’s not funny, Dean,” he says with a scowl. “Your dinner is ruined, and now my kitchen smells funny.”_ _

__Dean nods at him. The smell is pretty rank. “Cas, it’s a little funny. You’re supposed to _boil_ pasta. Not broil.” At Cas’s stumped look, Dean pulls him over to the cupboards. He finds a pot and pulls it out, fills it with water, and puts it on the stove. “When the water gets hot enough, it boils, and then you put in the pasta. How the hell do you even cook without knowing that? It’s cooking 101, dude.” He was boiling water when he was 5, but there’s no way he’s gonna tell that to Cas. _ _

__Castiel makes a face between a pout and a snarl. It’s oddly endearing. “I _know_ how to boil water, Dean. I just have never made pasta before, and must have read it wrong.” He grabs the printed out sheet of paper from the counter and scowls at it. “It smudged. It’s not my fault.” He crumples the paper into a ball and throws it in the waste bin, before squinting over at the still smoking oven and shooting it a deadly glare. “I have always tried to avoid using the stove. If I desire something hot, I am quite adept at using the barbecue, but I usually only make sandwiches, and salads. Oh, and yogurt parfaits.”_ _

__Dean stares at him blankly. “Yogurt parfaits?” What the actual _fuck_ are parfaits? They sound...spongy. Gross._ _

__Cas nods. “They are delicious. I will make you one sometime. But that doesn’t change the fact that your dinner is ruined.” He spreads his arms helplessly. “I have many skills, some of which I will show you later. But as you can see, cooking on a stove is not one of them.”_ _

__Dean gulps at the promise of seeing what _skills_ Cas knows later. He has a few guesses, and they all send a jolt right to his cock. He pulls Cas away from the kitchen and the blackened mess in the oven and brings him into the living room. He’ll help him clean it up later...after Cas shows him some of these skills..._ _

__“It’s fine. I appreciate the thought. We can order in a pizza or something, and one day soon I’ll teach you how to use the stove. But for now, I think _this_ sounds like a good idea.” He throws himself down onto the couch and hauls Cas down on top of him, crushing their lips together. Cas moans into Dean’s mouth, before grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him onto his back. He climbs on top, and this time it is Dean’s turn to gasp as their jean covered crotches rub together. Cas pulls away, only to grab both of Dean’s wrists in one hand and hold them firmly above his head. He reaches down with the other hand and palms Dean’s cock through his jeans. His blue eyes are sharp and intense as he gazes down at Dean._ _

__“Cas…” Dean moans breathlessly. He squirms beneath the contact. Fuck, his mind is reeling at how fast Cas switches between goofy and commanding. How is that even possible?_ _

__“Tell me what you want, Dean,” Cas demands._ _

__“You.” The answer causes Cas to tighten his grip and look down sternly at Dean. He pulls his other hand away from where it was resting heavily on Dean’s cock and Dean whimpers at the lost contact, thrusting his hips up to try to follow it. “You, Sir,” he whispers._ _

__Castiel smiles at him and resumes his petting. “Good boy,” he says. He stands and pulls Dean up with him. He places a hand at the base of Dean’s neck and steers him towards the bedroom. The action feels like one of ownership, and Dean both rails at it and delights in it internally, but he says nothing as his feet cross over the threshold._ _

__Cas releases him and pushes past to go sit on the bed. Dean stands there, shifting from foot to foot, wondering if he should follow. His teeth flick at his lower lip as he waits for direction._ _

__Castiel smiles at him before pulling his shirt over his head, folding it and placing it neatly on the bedside table. Holy cow, he’s built! Not in a beefy jock type of way, but the corded lean muscles show off a subtle strength that Dean can’t deny. He’s ridiculously attracted to the other man right now and, well, that’s...not surprising at all, really. “Come here, Dean, and take off your shirt.”_ _

__Dean heads over to the bed, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Are they really going to do this? He reaches Cas and hesitates only a moment before drawing his shirt over his head and holding it in one hand. He swallows as Cas’s blue eyes drink him in, and can’t suppress the shiver when his hands reach up and gently run over his sides._ _

__“You’re beautiful, Dean,” Cas whispers reverently, before pulling him down for a quick kiss._ _

__Dean flushes and reaches a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t you mean handsome, Cas?” he says with a grin._ _

__Cas shakes his head. “Beautiful. I mean beautiful. Handsome doesn’t do you justice.” There is an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes as he looks Dean up and down._ _

__Dean rolls his eyes at that. “‘M not a girl, you know.”_ _

__Blue eyes lower and stare at the still hard cock concealed in Dean’s jeans. “I should hope not, Dean. Otherwise I would think I would be very confused right now,” Cas says with a raised eyebrow. “Now, take off your jeans and let me see the rest of you.”_ _

__Dean can’t get his pants off fast enough, and he throws them and his shirt on the floor at the foot of the bed when he is done. They land in a heap on the floor._ _

__Cas shakes his head and tuts at Dean. “Dean, when I tell you to strip, I expect you to place your clothes neatly on a chair or the dresser. Never in a pile on the floor.”_ _

__Dean stares at him for a moment. Great, he’s dating a clean freak. Cas stares at him expectantly until he leans down and picks up his shirt and jeans. He folds them, slightly messily because fuck he just doesn’t ever fold clothes, and puts them down on top of Castiel’s shirt._ _

__Cas smiles widely at him. “Good boy.” Then he settles himself back on the bed and looks Dean up and down._ _

__Dean’s cock twitches at the praise, and his face reddens even further. He chews his lower lip and shifts from foot to foot. “You, uhh...You gonna get undressed too, Ca-I mean, Sir?”_ _

__Castiel chuckles. “I suppose I could. Would you like that, Dean?”_ _

__“Yes!” Dean blurts out, then winces. Damn, that sounds desperate. “I mean, yes, please.”_ _

__Castiel’s pants join the rest of their clothes pile, and Dean can’t help but stare hungrily at the body they reveal. He can feel Cas eyeing him the same way, but his thoughts are caught up in a loop of _holy-shit-fuck-damn-yes_! He’s still on the loop when Cas shoves off the bed and kneels down in front of him. “Woah! Cas, what are you-”_ _

__“Hush,” is all Cas says before he grabs Dean’s leaking cock and firmly licks up the shaft, before opening his mouth and sucking Dean in._ _

__Fuck! Dean moans out loud at the soft warmth that envelops him. His hands curl into fists when Cas pulls back and his tongue swirls around his head, and he squeezes his eyes shut and tosses his head back._ _

__“Shit,” he gasps out when Castiel suddenly swallows him down all the way. He’s never had anyone that could do that before, and holy hell, he knows what all the fuss is about now! Cas pauses and holds him down, and then starts _humming_. Dean stares down at him in shock and has to bite his lip hard to keep from coming right then and there, and only releases it when Cas pulls off and looks up at him, pupils blown wide in their lust._ _

__“How are you doing, Dean?” he asks huskily, lips wet and slightly swollen. “Would you like to come for me now?”_ _

___Yesyesyesyesyesyes_! “P-please, Sir,” Dean breathes. Cas smiles before taking him in once more. When he starts humming this time, Dean’s toes curl into the plush carpet, and his eyes roll back as one of the most intense orgasms of his life races through his body, Cas swallowing every drop._ _

__When Dean finally comes back to himself, he looks down and sees Castiel looking up at him smugly. “That was...wow…” he says in awe. He reaches down and pulls Cas up and in for a kiss. And okay, maybe it’s a bit of a turn on that he can taste himself on Cas’s lips. His spent cock gives an interested twitch._ _

__“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Cas says before pulling them both down to sit on the bed._ _

__“I did. A lot. Thanks,” Dean says with a smile. “But why did you...I mean, aren’t I supposed to…” He trails off and shrugs a shoulder. “You’re not supposed to…”_ _

__Castiel understands what he is trying to say and shakes his head. “Dean, just because I am your Dom, doesn’t mean I can’t pleasure you. In fact, I wanted to do that for you first to show you that your pleasure is just as important as mine.” At Dean’s surprised look, he laughs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of opportunity to ‘repay’ me.” He even uses air quotes on repay, the big dork._ _

__“Thanks, that’s pretty awesome of you. And don’t worry, I always repay my debts.” Dean moves to do just that when he is stopped by Cas’s hand on his arm. He quirks an eyebrow at Cas. “Or not?”_ _

__“Later. Let’s order pizza now, I am quite hungry. Even after,” he waves a hand at Dean, “you.”_ _

__Dean stares at him. Did he just crack a joke? When Cas’s eyes glitter in amusement, Dean snorts. “There’s always more where that came from.”_ _

__“I know.” Cas stands and kisses Dean on the forehead before grabbing his pants out of the pile. He reaches into the pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “I usually have vegetarian pizza. What do you prefer, Dean?”_ _

__Dean tries not to make a face at the word vegetarian, but he can tell he isn’t quite as successful as he tries to be when Cas’s lips thin. “Meat?” he asks hopefully._ _

__Castiel sighs. “I am certain you are not getting enough vegetables in your diet, Dean. You need to take care of your body.”_ _

__“Hey, I take care of it!” Dean protests._ _

__“We can compromise today, pepperoni and green peppers work?” At Dean’s nod he smiles. “But I do expect you to eat more greens in the future, Dean.”_ _

__This time Dean knows the face he makes is obvious. “Is that a rule, Sir?” he asks petulantly, crossing his arms._ _

__“Does it need to be?” Cas asks. When Dean doesn’t reply, Cas sighs. “I’m not telling you to cut out what you enjoy, but I want you to take care of your body, part of which means eating more greens.”_ _

__Fuck, now Cas sounds like Sam. But, whatever. If it’s that important… “Yes, Sir,” he says, quietly this time._ _

__The smile that Cas gives him this time is warm, and Dean leans back on his elbows as Cas calls in the pizza order. When he hangs up the phone, Dean glances at him in confusion. “If you said delivery, don’t they need your address?”_ _

__Cas shrugs before tossing his phone down and climbing back up beside Dean. “I would not worry about that. The pizza man knows where I live.”_ _

__*~*~*~*~  
Dean and Cas are sitting on the couch in the living room, a single slice of congealing pizza resting in the open pizza box. _ _

__“Man, I’m stuffed,” Dean says as he leans back in satisfaction. The pizza that Cas had ordered was huge, each slice seemingly equal to two that he would normally eat. And really, who would have thought that green peppers and pepperoni would actually be _good_? Not that he’d ever admit that. To anybody._ _

__“I am also quite full,” Cas replies with a contented stretch. “I must admit, the pepperoni added a whole new dimension to the flavor profile. I may have to order that again.”_ _

__Dean stares at Cas. The guy uses the words ‘flavor profile’ but doesn’t know how to make pasta? What the hell, how does that work? He almost asks, but what he says instead is, “Yup. You should. Pepperoni makes everything delicious. Even green peppers.” He shifts so he is facing Castiel, and reaches out to fist a hand in his shirt. “You have some pizza sauce on your chin,” he murmurs. He pulls Cas towards him, tongue darting out to lick at the tiny dab of red._ _

__“Mmm,” Cas groans, and snakes one arm around Dean’s waist and pulling him up and over onto his lap, then grasping his ass and squeezing._ _

__Dean jumps slightly, then looks down as Cas and raises an eyebrow. “Someone’s ready for dessert, I see,” he grins impishly. He grinds down, smiling in satisfaction when Castiel moans in agreement._ _

__“Bedroom. Now,” Cas pants._ _

__Dean pops up off the couch. “Yes, Sir!” he salutes, before rushing off to the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he goes. Finally! Dessert always was his favorite… Cas might even be better than pie!_ _

__Dean reaches the bedroom and turns around to see where Cas is. He is startled when the other man appears directly behind him._ _

__“Get naked for me, Dean,” Cas says heavily. “And then kneel on the floor beside the bed.”_ _

__“Yes, Sir.” Dean pulls his pants off, folds them neatly and steps over the the bed, falling to his knees as he reaches it. Once his knees hit the floor, he feels any remaining tension he was carrying slip away, and he releases a heavy breath._ _

__Cas pulls his own pants off and places them on the nightstand before walking over to stand before Dean. He reaches out and cards a hand through Dean’s sandy colored hair. Damn, that feels so good! Dean leans into it, reveling in the feel of such a simple touch._ _

__As the fingers brush through his hair, Dean closes his eyes. Then he feels Cas’s hand rest on the back of his neck. He opens his eyes and glances up at Cas through his eyelashes._ _

__Cas smiles down at him. “Open up for me, Dean. I want you to taste me.”_ _

__Dean eagerly opens his mouth and leans forward, taking Castiel into his mouth gently. The moan that sounds from above him is all the encouragement he needs and he begins sucking in earnest, thoroughly enjoying the heavy weight of Castiel on his tongue.  
Dean bobs his head up and down. This is the first time he had ever had a male...friend of any substantial size, and he is having difficulty swallowing Cas all the way down, much to his embarrassment. He manages to take in most of him, but when his gag reflex kicks in, he pulls off, choking. He glances up at Cas, face flushing red. “Sorry,” he mutters, before leaning in to try again._ _

__Cas shows no sign of having heard. He tightens his fingers in Dean’s hair and draws him forward with a groan._ _

__Dean suckles at Cas’s cock, quickly reviewing all the tips he has learned about sucking dick in his head. Relax the throat. Breathe through the nose. Okay, he can do this. He takes a deep breath and swallows as much of Cas’s cock down as he can. When he feels it hit the back of his throat, he closes his eyes and concentrates on relaxing the muscles in his throat. He still can’t quite manage to get Castiel all the way down, but he doesn’t gag, and the gasp above him encourages him to continue. He pulls back and licks the shaft, before going further and suckling on Cas’s balls as his hand rubs up and down, flicking the tip with his thumb before once again licking up and taking Cas back into his mouth. The heavy cock in his mouth grows even harder, slightly salty precome leaking out of the tip. Cas is panting heavily now, fingers curling in Dean’s hair. His thrusts into Dean’s mouth become erratic, and then suddenly Dean’s swallowing down Cas’s orgasm. Salty and sweet. Delicious._ _

__When Castiel pulls out his softening cock, he looks down at Dean. He places two fingers under his chin and tilts his face up. “You did so good, Dean,” he says with a soft smile. “So good.” He leans down and places a kiss on Dean’s forehead. “Stay here and don’t move, I’ll be right back.”_ _

__Dean raises a quizzical eyebrow, but doesn’t move an inch as Castiel disappears into the bathroom and then comes out and heads over to the dresser, where he opens a drawer and pulls something out before placing it on top of the dresser. Dean tilts his head slightly in an attempt to see what it is, but is unable to see from his position on the floor._ _

__Cas comes back over, a content smile on his face. He bends down and pulls Dean up off the floor, and then raises the soft, warm washcloth to his face. At first, Dean almost pulls away. Nobody has wiped his face since he was four years old, for crying out loud! But the gentleness with which he wipes the cloth over and around Dean’s lips and chin convinces him that maybe, just this once, it’s okay. Nobody has to know how much he enjoys it, after all._ _

__Cas steps behind him and wraps him in a hug. “That was very enjoyable, Dean,” Cas whispers in his ear. Damn, even the sound of his voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine. His cock rests in the cleft of Dean’s ass, and yup! That was _definitely_ a shiver. _ _

__Castiel chuckles deeply, then pulls Dean around so they are facing each other. He places one hand on Dean’s jaw, then kisses him deeply, their naked bodies flush together. Dean is thrilled at the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other. Cas releases him and steps back, and Dean can’t help the pathetic whimper that escapes him at the loss of contact._ _

__“Not tonight, my good boy,” Cas says. “I prefer to start slow. That way we can learn about each other as we go.”_ _

__Okay. He’d prefer to just go all the way right the fuck _now_ , but... Dean never had a partner in the past who wanted to take it slow, and if that is what needs to happen with Cas...He nods. “Yeah,” he rasps. “That’s fine.”_ _

__Cas smiles widely, before stepping over to the dresser and plucking the item he had placed there earlier. He turns back to Dean, whose eyes flick down to Castiel’s hands. When he sees what is there, his heart leaps into his throat. Oh, _fuck_._ _

__“I am working tomorrow. If you are free, I would like you to stop in.” Cas holds the item up and drops it into Dean’s hands. “And wear this while you are there. I bought it for you this morning.”_ _

__It’s a friggin’ buttplug. Its black flared tip rests solidly in Dean’s hand, and he stares at it in horrified fascination. He’s never kept anything in his ass for, well, longer than a fuck. This is gonna be intense. In fact, after the initial shock, Dean can feel the excitement in his gut._ _

__“Dean?” Cas is looking at him, a question in his eyes._ _

__Dean grins. “Yes, Sir,” he says. Tomorrow is gonna rock!_ _

__*~*~*~*~_ _

__That night, Dean is lying in his bed, going over the events of the evening in his head. He had fun, sure. There is still a part of him that flails against the thought of being submissive though...especially for a guy. That is the part of his mind that is at the surface of his thoughts right now._ _

__He is a strong, masculine guy. What part of him ever thought he would be doing _this_? He can take on Wendigos, ghosts, and other fuglies that other men would quail at, and the first hot guy to take an interest in him makes him bend over and take it? Fuck, what would _Dad_ think if he could see his eldest now? Dad’s good little soldier, happily bending over and taking it. Oh god, what the hell is wrong with him?_ _

__He has always considered his sexuality to be an integral, defining part of him. His experience and thorough enjoyment pleasing women is something he bases part of _himself_ on. The thought that that is nothing but a lie, a cover up, is not sitting well. Nausea rolls in his gut at the thought._ _

__Dean pushes himself up and grips the back of his neck with both hands, heart beating wildly. Why are these thoughts happening now? When he was with Cas earlier, everything seemed to slip into place, a proper and perfect fit. He starts breathing heavily, and has to actively calm his breaths. “Don’t panic. Don’t you dare panic, you goddamn pussy,” he scolds himself quietly. “You’re not gay. You still like girls. Just ‘cause you take it up the ass, that doesn’t mean you’re weak.” And fuck if everything about that last sentence is just _wrong_ in his mind right now._ _

__He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. Suddenly, an idea pops into his head. He gets out of bed and kneels down to look under the bed. Seeing what he is looking for, he reaches out and pulls back a copy of _Busty Asian Beauties_. Awesome! He almost forgot that he put these here. After all, his libido has been wonky since the cabin. Until recently, anyways. Not his fault. _ _

__He climbs back into the bed, treasure in his hand. He flips the skin mag open, and immediately feels a heat build up as his eyes skim over the pictures. He turns each page, feeling his cock harden with each picture of delicious looking tits revealed. He grins. Fuck, yeah! The comfort he feels at still being turned on by voluptuous women rushes through him. He is so relieved he flops onto his back, not even needing to get off, and almost feeling like he did._ _

__The magazine flutters to the ground. Dean smiles, relieved. Okay. Maybe he can do this. Deep down, he still knows that this is an issue he needs to deal with further, but for now he can let it go, push it down, and let sleep take him._ _


	7. Chapter 7

Dean’s phone rings as he’s banging on the top of the television, trying to get some sort of reception on the old school piece of crap. He just wants to watch Dr. Sexy, damn it! He curses as he loses the brief picture, and reaches over to the table to grab his phone.

He glances at the ID, then answers the phone with a grumbled, “What?” He briefly sees a picture, then it’s gone again in a sizzle of white. Damn television. 

“That how you greet an old friend, boy?” Bobby’s gruff voice comes through the line. “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you manners?”

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes, even though he knows Bobby can’t see him. “You know he didn’t.”

“True. How you doin’? Keeping out of trouble, I hope?” Bobby asks wryly. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just tryin’ to get this stupid fuckin’ TV to work. Even the crappiest motels we stayed in had better TVs,” Dean growls. 

Bobby chuckles. “Maybe with Sam working now, you boys can afford an upgrade. Speaking of which, what are you boys up to tonight?”

Dean pauses from his fiddling. “Uhhh...Well, Sam doesn’t have a social life, so he’s probably doin’ nothing. I have, umm...plans. Why?”

“Need a something picked up from a hunter a couple towns over from you. It’s not a rush to get it to me, but I don’t want to risk mailing it.”

Dean perks up. Even though he has plans with Cas tonight, he’s always interested in hearing about what’s happening in the hunting world. And Bobby usually has some really cool shit. “Oh yeah? What is it?” he asks, before happily volunteering Sam to go get it. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“A protection amulet made of black tourmaline. Belonged to an old shaman friend of mine, and he passed it to a hunter friend of mine to pass on to me,” Bobby explains. He’s silent for a moment, then clears his throat and asks, “So, you going out with that Castiel tonight?”

Even though he is, and even though Bobby already has guessed that they are more than friends, Dean feels his ears heat up. He clears his throat, and coughs a little. “Maybe?” Bobby is silent on the other end. “Okay, yes.”

“What did I tell you before, Dean? I ain’t gonna judge you, ya idjit.”

Dean sighs. “I know, Bobby. Just not used to this yet, is all.” The sound of the door opening perks up his ears. Oh good, Sam can take over. “Hang on, I think Sam just got home from work.” He pulls the phone away from his mouth and yells for his brother. When Sam walks into the living room, Dean shakes the phone at him. “Bobby needs you to go pick something up for him tonight.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

Dean puts the phone back up to his mouth. “He’s in. See? Toldja he has no life. I’ll even be nice and do my part. He can take the Impala,” he says with a laugh, ignoring the playful scowl Sam throws his way. “I’ll pass you over to him now. Talk to ya soon, Bobby.”

“Later, Dean.”

Sam snatches the phone from Dean’s hands. He greets Bobby, then turns on his heels and walks out, voice trailing away as he heads on to the front porch. What a baby. Of _course_ he doesn’t have plans tonight!

Dean crows in satisfaction as the picture finally comes through on the TV. It’s a bit grainy, but whatever. He settles back on the couch, wincing slightly as a spring pokes him in the back, and grabs his water off the table.

He’s just getting into one of his favorite reruns of _Dr. Sexy, MD_ when Sam walks back in. His brother tosses the phone on the couch beside him before sitting down in the chair. Dean grins over at him. “You gonna pick up that thing for Bobby tonight?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me take the car,” he says with a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Huh. When did they get that? Or has it always been there? “Gotta head out soon. Pills, Dean,” he says pointedly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I will.” Nag.

Sam clenches his jaw, before getting up and heading down the hall to Dean’s room. He comes back with the bright orange containers clutched in his giant paws. He twists the bottles open and shakes various pills out into his hands, then holds them in front of Dean’s face. 

Dean tries unsuccessfully to see what Dr. Sexy is doing around his giant oaf of a brother, but Sam just clears his throat and remains where he is. 

“God, Sam! I’m not a baby. I can take my own damn pills!” Nevertheless, Dean holds out his hand to take them and they are unceremoniously dumped in his hand. 

“Stop acting like one then,” Sam says calmly as he sits back down.

Dean sticks out his tongue before swallowing the pills down with a glass of water and continuing to watch his show.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Sam speaks up. “Bobby said you have plans tonight?” he asks casually. “You seein’ Castiel again?”

Dean smirks. “Yup!” is all he says without looking in Sam’s direction.

Sam nods, as if he already knew the answer. Which he totally did. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out Dean’s plans. He has no other friends in this shitty town. “How are things going? With Cas, I mean.”

This time Dean does look over at Sam. He raises an eyebrow. “How do you _think_ it’s going, Sammy?” Is Sam...blushing? Heh. Too easy.

“Just checking, Dean. I just want you to be happy, is all.”

Dean sniggers. “I am happy. Very, very…happy,” he responds with a suggestive waggle of his brow. This time Sam definitely _does_ flush red, and Dean grins. “In fact, I won’t be coming home tonight, so feel free to try to find a friend of your own when you get back.”

Sam stands up. “I’m not even gonna honor that with a response.”

“You just did.”

Sam chuckles. “I guess. Take your meds and do your breathing exercises, then. I’m out.” He pauses. “You need a ride anywhere?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. I’ll call a cab,” he answers with a wave. Or maybe walk. It’s a nice night and he could use the exercise. Should only take about an hour…

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?” Sam snatches the Impala’s keys off of the coffee table.

“Later, Sammy.”

After Sam leaves, Dean sits on the couch chewing his bottom lip, Dr. Sexy playing in the background. He really wouldn’t mind walking. He knows the exercise would definitely help him. But there is _no_ way he’s walking for over an hour with...Cas’s present in him. No way. He’ll go to the bathroom or something when he gets there. That should work.

He stands and walks into his bedroom, where he pulls the black plug out of his drawer. He sits down on the bed and looks down at it. He’s never worn one of these in his life. The prospect of wearing it, of wearing it in public because Castiel _told_ him to, sends a thrill through his whole body. The thoughts that plagued him last night try to make another appearance, but he stubbornly pushes them back down. No. He is damn well going to have fun tonight.

Dean gives himself a mental shake and shoves it in his pocket, thankful they are so deep, along with a small packet of lube that was also in the drawer. He checks himself in the mirror, pleased with the way he looks at the moment. The deep red overshirt looks good overtop the tighter grey tee. He hopes Castiel approves. Dean throws his jacket overtop the shirts, completing the whole ensemble. 

He grabs the spare key from the kitchen and moves to head out the door. Right before he shuts the door behind him, he remembers Sam’s words. Pills. Right. Fuck. He grabs them from the coffee table with a grumble and rams them into the inside pocket of his coat. Okay. He runs through the list once more in his head. Pills? Check. Keys? Check. Wallet? Umm...check. Plug and lube? Double check. 

All right. Time to blow this popsicle stand. The door shuts behind him with a click, and Dean heads off into the dusk.

*~*~*~*~

When Dean arrives in the bar of The Den after a nice, long walk, he glances around surreptitiously for Castiel before ducking into the bathroom. He knows Cas would be okay with him not wearing it for an hour and a half long walk, but still. He doesn’t want to advertise the fact.

He shuts the stall door behind him and reaches into his pocket. He digs the plug and the lube out and takes a deep breath. He can do this. 

Thankfully nobody is in the bathroom with him, and he unbuckles his jeans and tugs them and his boxers down, exposing his ass. He pops the top of the lube bottle, and squirts a generous amount on his fingers. He squeezes his eyes shut and slowly but surely works the first finger in, gasping at the cold intrusion. When he works himself open enough, he lubes up the plug and slips it home. When the flared base is all the way in, he is panting, cock rock hard. Well _fuck_. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening causes Dean to freeze, heart in his throat and pants around his ankles.

“Dean? Are you in here?” Cas’s voice is quiet, but the demanding tone in it is definitely there.

Dean clears his throat. “Hey,” he says, opening the door slightly to peek through at Cas. “How’d you know I was in here?”

Castiel’s eyes darken as he gazes through the crack at Dean’s cock, still standing at attention. “Matt. He mentioned that you had come in.” Cas steps forward and pushes the door all the way open with one hand. 

Dean falls back against the toilet with a wordless cry, eyes flying to the entrance of the bathroom, now openly visible behind Cas. “Cas!” What the fuck, anyone could come in and see him with his pants around his ankles, for fuck’s sake! He reaches down to grab the waistband of his jeans, and is stopped when Castiel bends and wraps a hand around his wrist. “C-Cas?” Dean stammers, throat dry.

Cas pulls him up. “Turn around,” he says huskily. When Dean hesitates, eyes once more traveling over Cas’s shoulder to the door, Cas’s eyes narrow. “Dean. Turn around. Now.”

Dean rails internally, not wanting anyone to walk in and see him in such a compromising situation, but he does as he’s told. He feels hands spread him apart, hears a satisfied hum behind him, and then jumps when a hand lands on his ass cheek in a firm spank. Dean’s cock jumps excitedly.

Cas leans forward, his chest pressing against Dean’s back. “Good boy,” he murmurs. He reaches around and fists Dean’s cock in one hand. “Do you like your present?” he asks as he begins to pump slowly.

“Ye-” Dean has to stop and clear his throat. “Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want to come?” 

“Yes, Sir!”

“Do it. Come for me, my good boy.”

Two more jerks from Cas’s hand, and Dean is coming with a whine, coating Cas’s hand and his own stomach with thick pearly ropes. He’s almost embarrassed at how quickly he came, but the sensation in his ass, and the thought that someone could come in at any moment, sent him over the edge quicker than he has gone since he was fifteen. 

Castiel kisses the back of Dean’s neck, then pulls away and steps over to the sink. As he’s wetting a paper towel, Dean is breathing heavily in the stall, still seeing stars and weak in the knees. The fact that the bathroom door is still completely visible no longer bothers him at the moment; he’s too caught up in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Who knew that coming in a public bathroom could be so intense?

Castiel steps back to him and turns him forward, slowly wiping the evidence of Dean’s debauchery away. Dean smiles at him. “Cas, that was incredible,” he says quietly.

Cas returns his smile before reaching down and grasping Dean’s jeans and boxers and pulling them up in one tug. “I am glad you enjoyed it,” he replies. “You are so good for me, Dean. Now, I have to get back to work. Are you all right?” At Dean’s nod, he continues. “Perfect. Come to the bar when you are composed enough. If you aren’t there in five minutes, I will come back to find you.” He lays a kiss on Dean’s lips, then turns and walks out of the bathroom, leaving a sated Dean staring contentedly after him. 

*~*~*~*~

Dean spends the rest of Castiel’s shift enjoying both the view of his boyfriend, and the full feeling in his ass. Cas refuses to serve him more than one beer, but Dean knows that most likely means play time when they get back to Cas’s place, so he isn’t _too_ upset. 

He glances down at the printed pieces of paper in front of him. Cas had handed him an envelope when he had sat down at the bar earlier, and when he had pulled the papers out, he was intrigued to read through the contract that was on it. He reads through it for what feels like the fourth time, and Cas comes over to where he is sitting.

“Is everything in order there, Dean?” he asks. 

Dean nods. Lots of the things listed on the contract appeal to him, and he completely agrees with the list of limits. Some of the things that Cas has down for trying make him a little squeamish, but he is willing to give them a shot.

Cas smiles at him and hands him a pen. He signs in the designated spot, and Cas takes the pen back and signs the contract as well. 

When the last customer clears out, Dean shifts on the barstool, gasping when the plug hits him just right. Damn, why hasn’t he worn one of these before? Cas comes over and places another glass of water in front of him. He looks at it, then up at Cas. “What’re you tryin’ to do? Drown me?” he jokes.

“It is important to stay hydrated, Dean,” Cas says stoically. “Especially when you intend to engage in sexual activity such as ours.“ He stares at Dean as he takes a long sip from his own water glass.

Dean blinks. Yeah, uhhh, okay. Thankfully nobody is around to hear _that_ awkward sentence. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a drink of water. Cas puts down his own glass and goes over to finish counting out his till.

After another half hour, Dean and Castiel are waving goodbye to Matt, and walking together across the parking lot towards Cas’s car. When Dean sits down in the passenger seat, he moans at the feeling in his ass.

Castiel laughs under his breath. He must be some sort of sadist, to like the torture he is putting Dean through. Asshole! 

“So, Dean, did you enjoy your night?” Cas asks casually.

The car hits a pothole, making Dean gasp, and he is not entirely certain it wasn’t on purpose. “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth. Don’t get a hard on _now_. That would be so embarrassing! “It was awesome.” Naked Bobby. Naked Sam… Damn it!

Dean is fully hard again when they pull into Cas’s driveway, but he is pleased to see that he is not the only one. Castiel is adjusting himself as he steps out of the car, and he wastes no time grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him to the door. When they reach it, Cas pushes Dean against it and kisses him heavily. When he pulls away, he keeps Dean pressed firmly against the door and lays a line of kisses down Dean’s neck and over the curve of his collarbone. Dean moans in appreciation.

“Cas,” he pants. “Get the door, dude.”

Cas shakes his head and moves over to Dean’s other side, where he moves his lips up Dean’s neck, before nipping and sucking at the soft skin there. Dean yelps in surprise, and then melts into the door, throwing his head back against it to offer more of his neck to Cas. Fuck the door, this is just fine…

Dean reaches forward with the hand that isn’t currently pinned beneath Cas’s weight, and cups the heavy hard weight of Cas through his pants. When he does, Cas bites down harder on the spot he is currently suckling and thrusts his hips forward. Cas growls against his neck and pulls Dean’s jacket off his shoulders, swiftly followed by the overshirt. 

Dean chuckles. “Cas, if you are wanting to undress me right now, we should probably go inside before one of your neighbors calls the cops for indecent exposure.”

“The neighbors cannot see us, Dean,” Cas says, but pulls back and digs his house key out of his pocket anyways. Dean moves out of the way and Cas opens the door. They both hurry inside, where Castiel hauls Dean towards the bedroom before he can even pull his boots off.

When they reach the bedroom, Cas continues his mission of getting all of Dean’s clothes off. He pulls the shirt over Dean’s head, folding it up neatly and placing it on the dresser. A tiny portion of Dean’s brain, the part that is not currently occupied with lust, finds that particular neurosis adorable. When his boots, pants and boxers swiftly follow suit, he is left standing naked in the middle of the room, and Castiel steps back to admire him. 

He self-consciously raises a hand to cover his scar, but Cas halts his hand in midair.

“Don’t,” Cas says firmly. “I told you you have nothing to be ashamed of, and I have already seen it.”

Dean forces himself to lower his hand. His scars have always been a source of pride, war wounds that show off his toughness, but _this_ one...This is just a horrible reminder of his failure to save his family, and he has to remind himself that it doesn’t bother Cas, that Cas has seen it, has touched it.

When Cas steps behind him and pulls his cheeks apart, his thoughts are not on his scar anymore. He almost leaps forward in startlement, but manages to hold himself still. That is, until Cas gives the plug a sharp tap. He jumps with a cry. That felt intense! 

“On the bed, Dean. Lay on your back and place your hands above your head,” Cas says, his voice throaty. 

Dean scrambles to do as he’s told, climbing up on the soft bed. Cas follows.

“Spread your legs further apart.” Dean does, and is rewarded with a “Good boy.”

Cas grips the end of the plug and wiggles it out, causing Dean to whine slightly at the suddenly empty feeling. Cas looks at him in amusement. “I think someone likes being filled up,” he murmurs. He pushes himself off of the bed. “Stay there and do not move.”

Dean holds himself still as Cas moves over to a cupboard and pulls out a hank of soft looking red rope. He inhales sharply as the other man steps back to the bed, unravelling the rope as he does. Oh god, this is really happening…

Cas moves to his hands, and pauses before touching the rope to Dean’s wrists. “Your safeword is Impala. If you need me to stop at any time, use it.”

Dean nods, and then the feeling of rope wrapping around his wrists is all he can concentrate on. He’s right, the rope is soft. When both his wrists are secured above his head, he can feel Castiel test the tightness. He is surprised when the rope continues down his arms, cinching them together firmly yet comfortably.

Once Castiel ties off the final tie, he bends down and places a kiss on Dean’s lips. “You look amazing, Dean.”

Fuck, this _feels_ amazing! With every wrap of the rope, Dean can feel his worries and negative thoughts fall away, almost as though the rope is a type of security blanket. One thing is for sure, he was right that being tied up by Cas would be a different experience. If this is how it feels when it’s just his arms bound, he can’t wait to try more.

Gently Cas lowers his mouth to Dean’s neck and nips and sucks the same spot as earlier. When he is satisfied with that spot, he trails down Dean’s body, laying kisses as he goes. He doesn’t pause when he reaches the scar, just presses his lips against it. When he reaches Dean’s nipple, he sucks it into his mouth, softly scraping his teeth and causing Dean to moan with delight. Cas grins and releases him, before shifting up and over and repeating the process on the other side. Dean squirms when Cas’s tongue follows the light dusting of hair from his navel down, fingers trailing lightly along his sides, and the silky texture of the sheets beneath him feel amazing too. 

Cas shifts off the bed and opens the small drawer of the nightstand. He pulls out the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer climbs back up on the bed. He squeezes some out and covers his cock. Dean is open and ready for him. Oh so ready. Cas slowly pushes forward, and Dean mewls at the intrusion.

Cas sheathes himself fully in Dean, and gives him a moment to adjust to his girth before he starts moving. He holds himself up above Dean, who has his legs spread wantonly. Cas’s blue eyes lock onto Dean’s green ones as he pulls himself almost completely out, and then teasingly slides back in all the way. Dean’s hands clench and twist in their bonds as Cas fucks him slowly. _Sogoodsogoodsogood…_.

When Cas changes his angle and hits Dean’s sweet spot, Dean cries out in pleasure. Fuck, yes! The speed of Cas’s thrusts increase, and Dean writhes on the bed, hips bucking upwards to try to get Cas even deeper. His lower lip trembles slightly when Cas grips him and begins pumping in sync with his thrusts. The strokes are a little more rough than Dean is used to, but he discovers he _likes_ that. Sweat begins to roll off both their bodies, and the sound of both of them panting heavily fills the room.

Dean loses himself in the dual sensations of Cas inside him and also the hand jerking him off. “Please,” he croaks, voice raw with lust. “Please, Sir, I need to…” 

“Come, Dean,” Cas pants above him, squeezing his hand a little bit more. 

Dean cries out heavily as pleasure shoots through him. His body tightens up, and Castiel grunts above him. His thrusts become erratic and speed up as he chases his own release. After another couple minutes, Cas inhales sharply and rams himself home, body shuddering as his own orgasm rips out of his body. 

The feeling of Cas shooting inside of him is one of the most intense things Dean has ever experienced, and his spent cock gives an interested twitch. Maybe? Nope. No way is he able to get hard again so soon. 

Cas is breathing heavily, the muscles in his arms are corded and quivering as he holds himself up. Slowly he pulls himself out of Dean and collapses beside him. Dean lowers his bound arms from above his head. They both lay there for a few minutes, collecting their thoughts and calming their bodies. 

Finally, Cas pushes himself up and off the bed, heading into the washroom. He returns with a wet towel, and proceeds to thoroughly wipe Dean down, making sure he is completely clean. Dean lays there, comfortable and sated. When he is clean to Cas’s satisfaction, his arms are picked up and the knots are loosened, allowing the rope to fall away. His arms are free now, but there is a part of him that wants the rope back. Now that it’s gone, he feels like he is going to float away. It grounded him. 

Castiel deposits the towel in a basket against the wall, and looks over at Dean. “I will be right back.” He leaves and, true to his word, comes back just a minute later with a tall glass of orange juice in his hand. He places it on the nightstand and immediately climbs back into bed and wraps himself around Dean. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs into Dean’s ear. “Drink your juice now.”

Ugh. Orange juice. But he doesn’t say anything, he just reaches over and chugs most of the juice in several gulps. Suddenly he remembers his pills. He doesn’t want to take them in front of Cas, but he doesn’t really see another choice. He sighs and pushes himself off the bed. 

“Where are you going, Dean?” Cas asks curiously.

“Just gotta get something out of my jacket. Back in a sec.” He heads out of the room and grabs his jacket off the couch where it fell. He pulls the pills out and looks at them distastefully. Fuck, he hates these things. He dumps the required dose in his hand and heads back to the bedroom, where he picks up the remaining orange juice and swallows the pills.

“What are those for?”

Dean glances at Cas over his shoulder. “Oh, you know. Just a little something for my chest. Sammy’ll flip his lid if I don’t take ‘em.” He lays back against the pillow, body and mind completely sated. Cas settles in beside him. This is nice. This is okay. He’s still a man. He’s still strong. As he drifts off to sleep, he is comforted knowing that is true.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean wakes up the next morning and yawns widely. Wow, what a fan-frickin’-tastic sleep! He goes to sit up and the arm around him tightens, momentarily startling him. He glances down and grins. Right. Cas.

“Don’t want to get up,” the sleepy voice says from behind him. 

Dean chuckles. “Me neither, Cas, but I gotta piss.” The arm reluctantly releases him, and he stands up and stretches. His back pops and he groans in satisfaction before making his way to the bathroom. He takes care of business, and as he is washing his hands, his eyes glance at himself in the mirror. As usual, his gaze is drawn to the angry scar on his chest, but for the first time it doesn’t cause him any anxiety. It is almost as though being with Castiel has lifted a weight. He still feels it, but at the moment, it feels distant. Not fully real. He offers himself a small smile. 

Dean runs his tongue over his teeth and makes a face. If he’s gonna be spending any amount of time here, he’s gonna need a toothbrush. He glances around the counter space, then snatches up a small bottle of mouthwash. It’ll have to do for now. 

When he steps back out into the bedroom, Cas is sitting up and watching him. “Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. Great, actually. You have a really comfy bed.” He grins. “I need coffee. Mind if I go start a pot?” 

“By all means. The coffee is in the cupboard beside the refrigerator.” 

Dean nods and moves towards his clothes. He is stopped when Cas clears his throat. He looks over at the other man questioningly. 

“I believe I have already told you that one of the rules is for you to remain naked at all times in my house,” Cas says, amusement tinging his voice despite the stern look on his face.

Right. Forgot about that. “Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “Just gonna grab my cell outta my pants.” He does, and notices a text from Sam. 

_Hope you had a fun night ;) Got called into work, I’ll bring home supper. Invite cas over if you want_

Dean grins. “Sam wants to know if you want to come over for dinner. He’s buyin’.”

“I have to work again tonight, but I would love to join you and your brother before work.”

Dean types a reply. _Sure. thnx. And I definitely had more fun than you, bitch_

The reply is immediate. Sam must be on his phone. _Jerk._

Dean tosses his phone back on top of his clothes and heads out into the kitchen. He strides confidently into the kitchen, past the large living room window. One thing he isn’t worried about is anyone seeing him naked. If someone happens to get close enough, which they aren’t likely to, they would get a nice view of a hot ass. Usually he is in tight quarters with Sam, and while he had no qualms about changing in front of his brother, it was sort of nice to walk around as nature intended. He passes a full length mirror and glances at it. Fuck, he has a nice ass! Yup. Nature intended, indeed.

He makes it to the kitchen and zeros in on the coffee maker. Finally! One that makes more than two cups! He starts making the coffee, humming _For Whom The Bell Tolls_ under his breath as he does. 

He’s standing at the counter, gazing through the kitchen window as he waits for the coffee to brew, when Castiel comes in. He’s dressed in faded blue jeans and a tight fitting v-neck tee. Hot look for him, much more casual than the dress pants and shirt that Dean is used to seeing him in. 

Dean flashes him a smile. “Not fair, Cas. You get clothes and I have to freeze this sexy ass off just so you have a nice view?” he jokes, waving his hand towards his butt.

Castiel looks him up and down. “That seems perfectly fair to me. It _is_ a nice view. Besides, if you are cold, I can always warm you up,” he replies. 

Dean snorts. “I’ll just bet you can.” He turns to the cupboard and pulls down two coffee mugs. He takes notice of the matching dishware, all perfectly organized. It’s all so...homey. His mind blinks to his and Sam’s cupboard, with its mismatched mugs and chipped plates. It’s startling how much he feels settled in Cas’s place, with all these things he hasn’t known since he was four. He shakes himself out of his reverie. “Coffee?” He turns to Cas and holds up one of the mugs.

Cas nods and heads over to the fridge, where he pulls out a selection of ingredients. Dean squints towards him. Berries? Yogurt? Okay...but what about the bacon?

Castiel notices the look on his face. “I told you I was going to make you a parfait,” he says. “They are a very delicious and healthy start to your day.”

Dean stands there and stares, coffee mugs temporarily forgotten in his hands. “Know what else is a good start to the day? Bacon.” He shakes his head. “And coffee. And sex.” He turns to the pot and pours them both a cup. “You’re probably the only person in history that wants to eat a… a purr-fay,” he finishs sarcastically.

“ _Par_ fait. Actually, they are a very popular breakfast food.” Cas busies himself with preparing them. “At least, this type is. There is also a dessert parfait, but I much prefer this. Sit. Relax, this will be ready shortly.”

As Cas prepares the food, Dean sits and enjoys his coffee, staring at nothing. He feels totally relaxed. Castiel comes over and places a tall dish and a spoon in front of him. Dean stares at it, nonplussed. “So, uhh...what’s all in this?” He picks up the spoon and hesitantly pokes at it.

“I use vanilla yogurt, blueberries, raspberries, granola, and nuts.” Cas digs into his enthusiastically. “Try it.” He jabs his spoon in Dean’s direction.

Dean hesitates only briefly before sticking in his spoon and lifting it to his mouth. In all honesty, he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to _like_ it. It’s...good! No sponginess at all! He digs in enthusiastically, rolling his eyes at Cas’s raised eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of deliciousness. “Don’t you dare say I told you so.”

Cas _doesn’t_ say that, but the smug look as he finishes off his own parfait gets the message across anyways.

*~*~*~*~

After breakfast, Cas announces he is going to take a shower since he has to go into work after supper. Dean waves him away, and watches him walk into the bedroom. He waits until he hears the shower running, and then dashes into the bedroom to grab his coat. He’s been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get some protective wards up without Cas knowing.

He snatches the thick black marker he had put in his pocket for just this purpose, and heads back into the living room. He glances over to the front door and frowns. Fuck, if only Cas had a damn welcome mat! He does have a decent sized rug in front of the fireplace, and Dean wastes no time flipping it over and drawing in the devil’s trap he had memorized earlier. The location isn’t ideal if a demon does get in, but it is better than nothing. He’ll have to convince Cas to get a welcome mat...

He repeats the process on the mat by the kitchen sink, and is eyeballing the windowsills, wondering how he can get salt lines down without Cas noticing, when he hears the shower shut off. Hmmm, guess he can ask Bobby for any suggestions. The guy is like a walking encyclopedia when it comes to those things.

The two of them spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon lounging comfortably on the couch, stealing kisses at regular intervals as cheesy eighties action flicks roll on in the background.

Finally, Dean looks at the clock. He groans and pushes himself up onto his elbows. He tilts his head back to look at Cas. “Sammy’ll be home soon. We should get going.”

Castiel hums in agreement but makes no effort to move. Instead he cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair and gazes at the television screen.

Dean collapses back with a grin, resting his head on Cas’s jean-clad leg. “Sammy gets pissy when things aren’t on time,” he mutters, but settles himself comfortably. He is really liking the feeling of Cas’s hand in his hair. Usually it’s him doing the stroking. It’s kind of nice being on the receiving end. But in truth, nothing about this relationship is like what he has had in the past. It’s different, but...nice. He groans in pleasure when Cas’s fingers massage a sensitive spot on his scalp. 

Above him, Castiel chuckles. “You like that, I see,” he says lightly. His fingers continue their exploration of Dean’s scalp.

“Mmmm. Sam can wait, please don’t stop,” Dean moans. Oh yeah, this is the life. 

They relax that way for a little while longer, before Cas pulls his hands away. “All right, Dean. Let’s get up and get ready.” 

Dean sighs, but obligingly pushes himself up and off the couch. Castiel stands and wraps his arms around Dean from behind. “There is something I wish to do before we leave.” He walks forward, and with his arms wrapped securely around Dean, Dean has no choice but to walk with him. 

They get to the bedroom, and Castiel positions Dean so he is standing at the foot of the bed. Dean’s heart is thumping in his chest, nervousness and excitement warring with each other for the dominant spot. What does Cas have planned?

“Bend over and spread your legs, Dean.”

Awesome! Cas moves to the dresser, that Dean is coming to dub ‘the tickle trunk’, and pulls out something. From his position bending over the bed, Dean is unable to see what it is. Cas steps back to Dean, and drags what feels like a hard piece of leather down his spine. The fuck? Dean moves to turn and look and is stopped by a light smack on his ass. Wow, okay. _That’s_ what that is. 

“Don’t move,” Cas demands. He continues to drag the leather paddle over Dean’s back and ass. Dean’s muscles tense in anticipation. The waiting is torture.

When the first hit lands on his ass, Dean lurches forward in surprise, unable to stop the startled cry from escaping. After everything he has experienced in his lifetime of hunting, this is nothing, but it still surprises him. Cas gives him a moment to adjust himself back into position, and then brings the paddle down again, this time on the other cheek. Knowing what to expect, Dean is able to maintain his posture, and only a grunt escapes him.

His cock is starting to fill as Castiel lays into him several more times. He can’t see his ass right now, but he can picture in his mind just how red it must be with how much it is burning. He is thankful that he has never had this sort of reaction while getting thrown into walls hunting. How embarrassing would that be to explain to Sam!

He’s pulled from his reverie with a flurry of hits, precisely and expertly placed. He gasps at the sensations, and then Cas places the paddle down beside him. Dean can see it now, a heavy black leather paddle, with a solid looking silver handle. Cas brushes his fingers over Dean’s burning ass, and Dean eyes roll at the wonderful mixtures of feelings. 

“How are you doing, Dean?” Cas asks, so casually for someone who has just spent the past few minutes smacking his ass. 

“So good, Sir,” Dean manages to gasp out. And he _is_. The endorphins rushing through his body are making him feel amazing.

“Good boy.” Cas pulls him up and gives him a firm hug. Dean’s knees wobble for a moment, but he catches himself almost immediately and returns the embrace. “Let’s get you dressed and go back to your place.”

Dean blinks lazily. “No sex?” he pouts. He wants sex, but he feels so great right now, he honestly can’t bring himself to care either way.

Cas kisses him. “No sex. Not right now.” He moves over and picks up Dean’s clothes and holds them out. 

Dean takes them and puts them on, wincing slightly when his jeans are pulled up over his reddened ass. He’s gonna be feeling that for a while. Awesome. He snatches up his coat and is pulling it on when he notices Cas changing. “Uhh...Cas, what’s wrong with what you were wearing?”

Cas glances up at him from where he is buttoning up his white shirt. “I am going to work. It is important to look professional while at your job.” 

Okay, professional is a look Dean would think of if, you know, Cas is a _lawyer_ or something. But hey. It’s Cas, so Dean just accepts his answer with a nod. And come to think of it, Castiel has been dressed in the same outfit for work since Dean first saw him there, so…

Cas picks up the trenchcoat that completes his look and nods at Dean. “Ready to go,” he says.

*~*~*~*~

Sam is already home by the time they pull up. Cas follows Dean into the house just as Sam pokes his head out of his room, towel around his neck. “Hey guys!” the younger Winchester greets them warmly.

“Hi, Sammy.”

“Hello, Samuel,” Cas acknowledges him solemnly. 

Sam rolls his eyes at both of them. “Jeez, Cas, not you too! It’s _Sam_.” He tosses the towel back into his room and gives the door several firm tugs to shut it behind him. The house has shifted over the years, so several doors require a bit of effort to close. “I picked up some Chinese, hope that’s okay. Let’s eat while it’s still hot.”

Dean and Cas both nod. They head into the kitchen, where various take out containers are already spread out on the table. As Dean breathes in the smell of the food, memories of his childhood - sitting around a dingy motel room eating Chinese with his brother and dad - assault him. He grins to himself as he remembers how Sam always complained dad and Dean always got too many meat dishes. Well, Sammy can order all the veggie dishes he wants now, just as long as he remembers the Mu Shu Pork!

As Dean sits down in his chair, a flare up of burning reminds him of his and Cas’s earlier activities. He immediately shifts, trying to ease the sensation, catching Cas’s amused and knowing gaze across the table. He _knew_ that Dean would be feeling this at dinner. That was his plan from the start! He shifts again, and Cas winks at him. His eyes flick over to his brother, who is busy opening containers and doesn’t notice Dean’s discomfort. Thank fuck. That would’ve been awkward, to say the least. Dean forces himself to sit still, gritting his teeth. Well played, Cas. Well played.

“I got you your favorite, Dean,” Sam says, sitting himself down. “But I wasn’t sure what you liked Cas, so I got a selection.”

“Thank you very much, Samu- Sam.”

Dean puts his discomfort to the back of his mind. He’s dealt with much, _much_ worse than this. If Cas thinks he’s going to be hurtin’ all dinner, he has another think coming! Dean’s gaze roams the table, stopping at one of the containers. He grins at the delicious sight of Mu Shu Pork. Atta’ boy, Sammy! He immediately begins scooping some onto his plate. 

Cas is helping himself to some sort of vegetable dish. He passes it to Dean when he is finished. Dean shakes his head no, when Cas puts it down in front of him anyways. “Dean, this is a very appetizing dish. I _insist_ that you try it.” 

Dean pauses in the act of pushing it away. No fair! But he takes a spoonful of it and puts it on his plate. Castiel smiles at him, and Sam is looking between them with a bewildered look on his face.

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get him to eat more veggies for _years_!” He shakes his head as he looks at Cas. “That’s incredible!”

Dean makes a face at Sam, then proceeds to poke at the green mass on his plate. It looks _disgusting_. He promptly covers it up with a heaping mound of chow mein. Cas raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything to him.

Cas and Sam are enjoying their food as Dean tries desperately to pretend that there isn’t a slimy looking pile of _green_ that he is going to have to eat. Finally his chow mein is gone, and Dean takes a tentative bite of the...whatever the hell vegetable this is. He chews slowly, unaware of the two sets of eyes watching him in amused silence. It’s got a weird texture, but it’s taste actually isn’t half bad! He shrugs and takes another bite. There’s no way he’d eat this on his _own_ volition, but he can manage for tonight. He glances up, noticing them both watching with smiles on their faces. “What?” he snaps. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

They both look down to their own plates and start eating their own food. Good riddance. 

“Did you know,” Cas starts, pointing at one of the dishes, “that General Tso’s Chicken was not originally a dish from China, although he was a real person? A military leader, in fact.”

Okay. Random factoid to know. Dean shifts in his seat, hissing when the sting flares up. He covers it with a cough when Sam quickly looks over at him. Damn, feels like he might be getting a bit of a bruise there!

Cas and Sam finish the meal talking about little known facts about different foods. Dean listens, not having much to contribute but content to let his lover and brother chat. The fact that they get along quite well makes him happy, and a content smile rests on his lips as he leans back, belly full. 

Sam is just finishing putting the leftovers in the fridge when Dean looks over at Cas. “Want to go for a walk before you head to work?” he suggests.

“That sounds like a very good idea, Dean.” Cas nods and pushes himself out of his chair. “Thank-you for dinner, Sam.”

Sam shuts the fridge and grins. “No problem. It was good seeing you again.”

“You as well.” Cas follows Dean from the kitchen, sneaking a quick kiss when they are out of sight of Sam. “Did you enjoy sitting there, Dean?” he purrs in Dean’s ear. “You looked a little...uncomfortable.”

Dean snorts. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Then he chuckles before petulantly adding, “ _Sir_.” He leads Cas off the back porch and down the path to the creek. The sun is just starting to set in the dusky air, turning the land around them into various hues of red and gold. The gentle sound of water bubbling over rocks reaches their ears, and out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Cas close his eyes and breathe in deeply. Unconsciously Dean does the same, filling his lungs with fresh air. He takes a moment to marvel at how much better his lungs expand when he is totally relaxed. A deep breath would’ve been rather difficult for him even a week ago. His muscles would’ve locked up and his chest not expanded. Now he is almost able to expand his chest fully, even if there is still a twinge. Has this thing with Cas made _that_ much of a difference?

“This is beautiful, Dean,” Cas says, startling him out of his reverie. Cas’s eyes are locked on the big tree overhanging, a contented smile on his lips. 

Dean smiles and looks around. Yup. It’s pretty great right here. They’ve made it to Dean’s little secluded area by the creek, and Dean climbs onto the big boulder on the bank, motioning Cas to come sit up beside him. He does, and Dean wraps an arm around his shoulders, shifting to get comfortable on his sore ass. Cas settles against his chest with a happy sigh. “I come here sometimes to relax or think.” He shrugs and waves his hand at the surrounding scenery. “Something about the water, and the trees…” He rests his head on Castiel’s.

They sit there in comfortable silence, listening to the sound of the water and just basking in each other’s company. Dean is just about to fall into a light doze when Cas shifts and looks up at him. He glances down and meets his blue eyes, before lowering his head and kissing Cas’s lips gently. “You probably have to get to work, huh?” he asks, disappointment coloring his voice. 

“I do, unfortunately. I am training a new bartender tonight, so I cannot be late.” Cas pushes himself up, but instead of getting off the rock as Dean expects, he wraps Dean in his arms and lowers him so his back is flush against the rough stone.

Cas leans over him, his face painted in orange from the setting sun. Dean licks his lips and offers up a grin. “Thought you couldn’t be late?” he teases. 

Castiel chuckles against his mouth. “I won’t be.” His hands travel down Dean’s sides and palms his rapidly hardening cock through his jeans. Dean gasps and thrusts his hips up to meet Cas’s hand, hoping to get more friction. Cas’s teeth nip at Dean’s plump lower lip and now his hands move up to reach his belt buckle. They deftly unbuckle it and Dean lifts his bruised ass to allow Cas to slip his jeans and boxers down. Dean’s cock springs free and is already hard and leaking. 

Cas brings one hand up to his mouth and licks his palm. He reaches down and grasps Dean, his grip firm but gentle. Cas begins pumping his hand up and down, his thumb flicking deftly over Dean’s head expertly. Dean pants and squirms, his back protected from the roughness of the rock by only his shirts. Cas captures his mouth with his own once more, and Dean moans into it even as his tongue licks into Cas’s mouth. 

The strokes become faster, as Cas twists his hand with every stroke. Dean thrusts up to meet Cas’s hand, and cries out through a body shuddering orgasm that leaving him gasping. Cas licks the evidence off his hand, and _damn_ , that shouldn’t be so damn hot!

Cas grins above him. “Thank-you for showing me your private spot, Dean. I have to go to work now. Walk with me back to my car?” 

Dean’s mind is still hazy, but Cas’s words float through to him. “Yeah. Sure.” He pushes himself up with a groan, and pulls his pants back up, tucking himself in as he does so. They walk back to the house in companionable silence, the glow on Dean’s face not just from the setting sun.

“I will see you tomorrow?” Cas says as he opens his car door. 

“Mmm,” Dean agrees as he watches Cas get in. “Yeah. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”


	9. Chapter 9

Cas stands up and gazes down at Dean. “Do you trust me, Dean?” he asks quietly. 

And isn’t that the million dollar question? Only three people have ever had the title of Completely Trusted Person in Dean’s life. Sam, his dad, and Bobby. But before his brain even has time to completely process the question and formulate an answer, Dean’s mouth opens. “Yes,” he whispers. And he knows it’s true. 

Castiel offers him a wide smile. “Then close your eyes for me.”

Dean obeys, and the room is shuttered in darkness. Cas ties a cloth around Dean’s closed eyes, and he sucks in a breath at that. He can hear Cas moving away from the bed towards the large mahogany dresser on the other side of the room. The sounds of metal buckles clinking against each other cause his heart to speed up, but he keeps his eyes closed under the blindfold as Cas requested. His throat goes dry as he hears Cas step back towards him.

“Keep your eyes closed, Dean, and do not move.” The command is whispered from right beside him, warm breath ghosting over his ear. Dean inhales sharply, fighting against every hunter instinct that is ingrained in him to open his eyes and turn. But it’s Cas, so he remains still in the dark. 

Dean feels Cas’s fingertips lightly brush over the jut of his hipbone and down the top of his thigh. So gentle, it almost feels like feathers. He gasps sharply at the sensation. There is a brief pause as Castiel allows Dean a moment to gather himself, before he continues his trek down Dean’s leg.

When Cas reaches his ankle, he stops and wraps his hand around. The metal _ching_ sounds again, and Dean is mortified to hear a whimper in the back of his throat. Surely that sound didn’t come from him? He’s a man, and men don’t-oh God…

The thick padding of a leather cuff is wrapped around his ankle, and he squeezes his eyes as tight as he can. He doesn’t know if he is close to freaking out or if he’s more turned on than he’s ever been. The cuff tightens around his ankle as Cas does it up, before repeating the action on the other ankle.

“Are you all right, Dean?” Cas’s voice manages to come through the sound of the blood roaring in his ears. 

Dean opens his mouth to reply, and manages to choke out a response. “Yes,” he rasps out.

“You are doing so well for me,” Cas praises, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of Dean’s thigh. “My good boy.”

Dean groans as he feels Cas pull one of his legs to the side. After a moment his other leg is also stretched out, and he instinctively tries to close his legs. He can’t. Oh god, he can’t move and _he’s back in the cabin and blood and pain and-_

“Dean!” His eyes fly open and Cas is right above him suddenly, and his legs are able to move. “Dean, breathe for me!” 

What? Breathe? At that moment he feels his lungs about to explode and he gulps for air as Castiel cups his cheeks, thumbs moving in soothing movements up and down his throat.

“Cas…” he breathes. When he comes back fully he is horrified to realize his muscles are quivering uncontrollably, and his teeth are chattering. What…? When did it get to be so cold in here?

Cas’s wide, worried eyes meet his, and he brings his forehead down to rest on Dean’s. “What happened?” Cas asks, even as he pulls the blanket up and over. “You were doing so well, and then you panicked. I had to stop even though you didn’t use the safeword. What happened?” he repeats softly.

“‘M sorry, Cas. I’m okay, really.” Dean reaches up and pulls a hand out of the blanket, laying it on the back of Cas’s neck. “It happens sometimes, it wasn’t you,” he soothes. He can practically feel the worry vibrating through his lover, and his chest flutters in guilt for making him feel like that. 

“What was it?” Cas whispers, lips grazing Dean’s cheek.

“Just…” he pauses as he tries to think of what to say. “Just a bit of a flashback to an...accident I had once. I couldn’t move, and I guess not being able to see it was you...” he trails off. The blanket is helping, his teeth are chattering less now, thank fuck.

Cas pulls back and Dean lets him go. He tilts his head and regards Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean. I did not mean to remind you of that. That must have been a horrible experience.”

“It’s not your fault, Cas. I’m fine now. Really.”

“Perhaps we should-”

“No!” Dean grabs Cas’s hand as he goes to stand. “No. Don’t you dare say we shouldn’t do this.” There is no way he is going to let Cas blue-ball him. No way in _Hell_.

“But Dean-”

“Cas, _please_. I was enjoying myself. I really was, promise. Let’s try again.” 

Cas regards him for a moment. “Perhaps in a while, Dean. It would be remiss of me to try anything so soon after you experienced something like that.” He holds up a finger when Dean opens his mouth to voice another protest. “Hush. We do not need to worry about that tonight, I promise. And we will try again soon, only we will not use the blindfold and cuffs together.” 

Dean clenches his jaw. Why is he so damn _weak_? He gives a mental scream, but keeps his outward appearance normal. He is weak and wrong. He shouldn’t be like this. The thoughts are like poison, leeching into him and sucking him dry.  
“Dean?” Cas’s concerned voice cuts through his thoughts.

“‘M fine Cas.” He pauses, then adds, “Actually, I’m kind of tired. Let’s take a nap, okay?”

Cas regards him for a moment. “That is fine, Dean. I need you to have some juice and chocolate first, all right?” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Castiel places a finger on his lips to shush him. “It’s important, Dean.”

Dean stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay,” he says softly. 

*~*~*~*~

Dean is roughly shaken awake from his nap, and his hand reflexively shoots out in a defensive move before he fully wakes and realizes where he is. A sharp grunt of pain follows and the hands on his shoulders release him. 

When his eyes focus, his face pales and a wash of guilt and horror rides through him. “Shit, Cas!” He scrambles out from beneath the covers, ignoring the sharp twinge that shoots through his chest, and over to where the other man is holding his jaw with a pained wince. “Fuck! I’m so sorry.” He tentatively reaches towards Castiel, only to draw his hands back when he is waved back.

“I’m okay, Dean,” Cas says roughly. “I was not expecting you to react like that, and thus I did not move away in time.” He pauses and stretches his jaw open with a wince. He glances at Dean out of the corner of his eye. “That was quite a nightmare,” he adds wryly.

Dean scrubs his hand over his face, feeling the faint wet traces on his cheeks. Fuck. Fuck! “I...Cas…” He trails off, wanting to touch Cas’s, make sure he is okay, but unsure if his touch would even be welcome. The decision is taken from him when he feels the bed shift and Cas’s arms wrap around his shoulders from behind.

Dean almosts shifts away, not trusting himself not to hurt Cas further. But his need for reassurance overrides his gut instinct, selfish as it may be, and he slowly reaches up and grasps Cas’s forearm. 

“I am fine, Dean,” Cas whispers in his ear. “Not the first time I have taken a punch. I am more worried about you, to be perfectly honest.”

Dean turns to look at Cas, hand still on his arm and a puzzled look in his eye. Once he faces him and sees the bright red mark covering the right side of his jaw, he grits his teeth and pushes himself up, hiding the wince at the pull in his chest. The pain is the least he deserves right now.

“Where are you going?” Cas asks him carefully.

“Just getting you some ice for that jaw.” Dean forces himself to lean forward and look closer at the damage he caused. “Don’t want it to swell.” Too late. Dean pushes down the self-recrimination and heads to the kitchen, where he opens the freezer and pulls out a tray of ice. When he reaches for a towel, he notices his hand shaking. He stares at it for a moment, before squeezing his hand into a fist. First his dad, now Cas...People get hurt because of him. He forces himself to move, to grab the towel and wrap the ice up before heading back to Cas. 

He steps back into the room. Cas looks up at him and smiles softy. Dean hands the towel-wrapped ice over. “Here, Cas. Put this on your jaw.” He backs up towards the door again. No sense staying close enough to hurt Cas again.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas holds the towel at his jaw and stares at Dean intently. 

Dean grits his jaw and shifts uncomfortably under the gaze. “Yeah, well, least I could do,” he rasps. 

Cas lowers the towel. “Come here,” he says, patting the bed next to him. When Dean hesitates, Cas’s voice sharpens. “Dean. Come here.”

Dean startles at the tone. He can’t disobey that tone even if he wants to. How pathetic is that? He heads over and sits on the edge of the bed.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Cas says quietly after a moment.

Of course he was. Damn it. Dean sucks in his upper lip and takes a deep breath. “That right? Hope I wasn’t saying anything too embarrassing.” 

“What really happened to your father, Dean?” 

Okay. Right to the chase then. Dean flicks his eyes over and rests them on the far dresser. “Told you. Hunting accident.” 

“Dean...”

“Cas, I don’t want to talk about it. _Please_ don’t make me talk about it. Please...” he begs. He hates that he is reduced to this. To _begging_. Dean Winchester does not beg. Well, until now apparently.

“Dean, you should talk to someone,” Cas states firmly. “Anyone. Even if it is not me,” he adds softly. Sadly. 

_Dean_ put that tone in his voice. That knowledge hits him like a freight train. Everything that he has been able to push down, to push to the background over the past few weeks swarms up and over him, like a plague of locusts, and finally, Dean can’t handle it anymore. If he even ever could. 

“No,” he says coldly, standing up and refusing to look at Cas. He knows what he has to do, and if he looks at Cas now, he won’t have the strength to do what must be done. He grabs his clothes and pulls them on, ignoring Cas’s hand reaching out for him. “This... _us_... it’s a mistake, Cas.”

“What?” Castiel’s voice is stunned, and Dean feels another flare of guilt for putting that tone in Cas’s voice. Just another reason to leave. He always hurts the ones he cares about. 

“You heard me. I can’t do this anymore, Cas. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”

“And who are you?” Cas is standing in front of him now, and he reaches a hand up to Dean’s face. 

Dean stares at him for a moment before pulling away, out of reach. “I’m Dean Winchester. And if you stay with me, you’ll get hurt more, Cas. Trust me.”

“Dean, I think this is a reaction to what happened earlier...”

Dean snarls and raises both hands and pushes at Cas’s chest. “Don’t you get it? It’s not that, Cas. It’s who I am! I. Will. Hurt. You.” He firmly punctuates each word with another shove at Castiel. Cas doesn’t fight back, although Dean wishes he would. Lord knows he deserves a swift punch in the face in retaliation. But Cas takes each shove Dean gives him, no sign of the in-control Dom that he is. He is looking like a kicked puppy, and Dean can’t take it. “I’m tryin’ to be someone I’m not here, Cas. I…I’m not made for this.”

He steps back and shakes his head. “Goodbye, Cas.” He shoves his way past the other man, leaving the bedroom and grabbing his coat and keys from the back of the couch.

Just as he’s swinging his coat on, he hears a strangled sound behind him. He doesn’t turn around, but closes his eyes tight. Dean opens the front door. Cas is standing in the living room, having followed him out. 

“Dean, wait!” Cas pleads, reaching out for him. “Don’t do this.”

Dean pauses, but only long enough to take a deep breath and say “I’m sorry” before he is walking out, shutting the door firmly behind him. He opens the door of his beloved Impala and speeds away in a rush of gravel. He doesn’t look back. And when his phone rings a minute later, it sits ignored in his pocket as Led Zeppelin blasts through the speakers. When it rings again, he turns it off.

*~*~*~*~

Dean doesn’t go home right away, not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts for any extended amount of time. Instead he goes to the bookstore where Sam works. He finds a large enough space on the street a block away to park the Impala. He turns off the engine and sits there, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, and staring out of the windshield. His jaw clenches, and he inhales sharply before forcing himself out of the car stiffly.

Around him, people walk on the sidewalks. The multiple fancy coffee shops and unique little boutique shops are hubs of activity, and Dean has to push his way through the crowd. Sam just had to pick a shop on the busiest street in town, didn’t he? 

Dean flips up the collar of his leather jacket against the fall chill that is in the air, and crosses the street to Sam’s bookstore. He pushes open the door, and the little bell above it jingles merrily as the door opens. How...quaint. Sam must love that.

He looks around when he steps in, and immediately is transported to memories of Bobby’s living room. Large, leather-bound books lay in stacks at the end of each aisle, and the familiar scent of old book is thick in the air. This certainly wasn’t what he is expecting, but he can’t think of a place that is more perfect for his little brother.

“Can I help- Dean!” Sam steps out from one of the aisles, precariously clutching an armload of old books and expertly avoiding one of the large stacks on the floor without even having to look. “What are you doing here?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Hi to you too, Sammy.”

Sam gives himself a shake. “Right. Hi. Sorry.” He puts the books he’s holding on the counter and regards Dean curiously. “Just surprised to see you here. You know, in a place where they sell _books_.”

“Can’t a guy come and see where his little bro works? Just occured to me you’ve been working here for a while now, and I haven’t popped in yet.” Dean steps towards a display case of old books, curiously peering at them through the glass. Moby Dick? Ugh. He turns back to Sam. “So, where are the good books kept?”

Sam stares at him blandly, and then looks around the shop. “Uhhh...Everywhere?”

Dean shakes his head with a smile. “No, I mean the _good_ books. Got any with naked pictures in ‘em?”

A disgusted snort sounds from behind him, and Dean turns to see a tiny old lady glaring at him. She shoves her way past him, then shakes her head and heads for the door without a word.

“See you tomorrow, Mrs. David!” Sam calls as the lady exits the store. She leaves without a word, and Sam whirls on his brother. “Dean!” he scolds, throwing his arms up in annoyance.

Despite everything, Dean can’t help the mischievous grin that graces his features. How the hell was he supposed to know there was an old woman back there? She was so tiny, she probably couldn’t even be seen over the stack on the floor! So not his fault.  
Sam huffs exasperatingly. “Jesus, Dean. Aren’t you supposed to be with Cas or something?”

Dean pauses. “I was. He, uhh...got called into work early.” He leans forward and examines a book from a nearby stack. “Hey! Edgar Allan Poe!”

“Don’t change th-You know Edgar Allan Poe?” Sam sounds startled.

“Yeah, man. Black Cat is awesome! Creepy shit.” He stares at the book for another minute and then turns to Sam. “So, I’m thinking I’m gonna head up to Bobby’s for a while,” he says bluntly. 

Sam stares, mouth open in an “oh” of surprise, before closing and opening again without a word. 

“You all right there, princess?” Dean asks, feigning casualness. 

“Why?” Sam finally manages to splutter out. Dean shrugs but doesn’t say anything. Sam’s eyes narrow and he regards Dean suspiciously. Dean fidgets uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “You and Cas have a fight?” Sam asks him after a moment.

Dean’s eyes meet Sam’s in surprise. Fuck, is he _that_ easy to read now? “Uhhh…” is all he manages to get out. He scrubs a hand down his face. Damn it.

Sam sighs and moves out from where he was putting books away behind the counter. “Look, Dean. You can’t just keep running away from your problems. You always do this.”

Dean scowls at him. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes. You do. And if something happened between you and Cas, then you need to stay here and work it out. Not...not take off to Bobby’s at the first sign of trouble!”

“Shut-up, Dr. Phil,” Dean growls out. “You don’t know what I did-” He clamps his mouth shut. Damn it, said too much. 

As expected, Sam latches onto his words like a pitbull to a bone. “Well then, tell me! You never tell anyone anything, you just keep shit bottled up inside until you’re ready to explode! It’s not healthy!” God, he sounds just like Cas...

The door jingles and a young couple walk in. Sam greets them with a smile and a nod as they walk into the aisles, before grabbing Dean’s wrist and pulling him closer to the counter. Dean fights half heartedly before giving in. Sam lowers his voice before continuing. “Honestly, Dean, this past while has been great for you. Ever since you and Cas got together, you’ve had less attacks, and you seem happy. And a hell of a lot more stable,” he points out with a small shrug.

What the fuck? Does Sam think he’s a psycho or something? “Sam, I can’t…” Dean trails off, trying to get his thoughts in order. Ever since he walked out on Cas, he’s felt scrambled. Like a fucking egg. He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about this now, okay? Not here.”

Sam takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. But you’re _not_ taking off to Bobby’s.”

“You can’t give me orders, Sam. You’re not…” Dean stops. Sam’s not who? Dad? Cas? They are the only two people whose orders he’s ever followed, albeit in different circumstances. But Sam is his brother. He’s all there is now, all he’s got. He sighs deeply and looks at Sam through lowered lashes. “Yeah, all right Sam. I won’t go to Bobby’s. Yet. We’ll talk when you get home, okay?” he agrees. Great. So not what he had in mind when he came to see Sam.

Sam gives him a small smile. “I’m off in an hour. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

*~*~*~*~

When Dean pulls up to the house,the first thing he sees is Castiel’s white and blue tie that he always wears to work hanging on the doorknob, swaying ever so gently in the wind. He stares at it, but doesn’t get out of the car. A small part of him chuckles at that, seriously doubting that Cas has any clue what a tie on a doorknob means. Or maybe he does…

He glances around, unsure of whether or not he hopes to see Cas sitting in one of the chairs, and when he doesn’t, unsure of whether or not he is disappointed. Finally, he pushes open the Impala’s door and climbs out, heading up the stairs. When he reaches the door, he pulls the tie off and the piece of paper that it was holding flutters to the ground. The folded paper shows the faded logo of a mechanic shop, obviously from Cas’s glovebox, and Dean knows that without a doubt Cas sat at the little table on his porch to write this. He chews on his lower lip and bends down to pick it up, and unfolds it in trepidation. Cas’s smooth cursive greets him from the page.

_Dean, I had hoped you would be here so I could talk to you in person, but I admit a part of me knew you would not be here. Still, I had hoped._

_I feel as though I have failed you as a Dom. It is my responsibility to ensure you are comfortable and cared for, and I have failed in that. I am truly sorry._

_You have done nothing wrong, and if this is about what happened when I woke you, I am perfectly fine. But I fear there is more to it than that._

_I wish for you to give me a chance to speak to you, if only for a few minutes._

_Please, Dean._

_Yours forever,_

_Castiel_

Dean reads the note through several times, frozen. Then his jaw clenches and he crumples the paper up in his fist. He throws it off the porch with an inarticulate scream rising in his throat. Damn you, Cas! He stomps over to one of the rickety chairs and throws himself in it, breathing heavily. Why did Dean ever have to meet him? Everything he thought he was is in question, and he’s already proven he will hurt Cas. And now Cas thinks this is his own fault...It’s not fucking _fair_!

He sits there for several minutes, eyes closed and hands clenched. He throws his head back to rest against the roughened brick of the side of the house. Life sucks. It all sucks. But it’s not Castiel’s fault. That much Dean does know. He can feel the sting of unfallen tears behind his lids, and he forces himself to push them back. 

Dean stands and steps off the porch to the crumpled up ball of paper. He picks it up and slowly unfolds it, pressing it against his leg in a futile effort to smooth out the wrinkles. He can feel one of the tears squeeze past, and it drops onto the paper, smudging the writing faintly when he tries to wipe it off. Dean sighs as it’s smoothed as best as possible, before folding it gently and putting it in his pocket. 

He turns and trudges back up the steps, opening the screen door and pulling his keys out of his pocket. When he gets in, the first thing he does is head straight for the bottle of whiskey hidden in the back of a cupboard. Benefit of having a brother that doesn’t cook...It’s easy to hide shit in kitchen cupboards. He takes the bottle to his bedroom and shuts the door. Sam’ll be home in a little while, and Dean is gonna need some liquid courage for what is sure to be a chick flick moment.

*****

When Sam comes home about forty-five minutes later, Dean has managed to polish off half the bottle. He’s half corked by the time he hears Sam’s giant feet stomping down the hallway towards his room. “Hiya, Sammy,” he grunts when his brother opens the door. 

Sam takes in the bottle in Dean’s hands, and the slightly flushed look high on his cheeks. “Where were you hiding _that_ one?” he sighs as he comes into the bedroom and sits on the bed beside Dean. He reaches out and takes the bottle. Dean glowers, but lets Sam take it without a word. “Want to tell me what happened with Cas?” he asks.

“Not particularly,” Dean says. When Sam opens his mouth to argue, he adds, “But I told you we’d talk, so...Guess I don’t have much of a choice.” He turns his head so he isn’t looking directly at Sam. No way in hell will he able to get this out if he’s looking at his brother. He doesn’t want to see the judgement that he _knows_ will be there when Dean explains. Sam doesn’t say anything, just gives Dean time to gather himself and collect his thoughts. He knows Dean will talk when he is ready.

Dean takes a deep breath. “Cas and I are- _were_ umm...It’s not…fuck!” Dean’s shoulders tighten up as he tries to explain to Sam. This is probably the most uncomfortable conversation in their history of conversations. Even worse than the birds and the bees. Sam just continues to wait. Dean decides to just go for it. Liquid courage, and all that. “CasismydomandIfuckedupandnowIdon’tknowwhattodo.” He rushes it out as fast as he can in one breath. In the silence that follows, Dean risks a glance over to Sam, who is blinking at him with a confused look on his face.

Dean can see the wheels turning as Sam tries to work out what he said. “Did you say Cas is your _Dom_?” Sam asks. ‘As in, _Dominant_?” There isn’t any judgement in his voice, more surprised curiosity. Dean doesn’t reply, just nods his head and closes his eyes. The truth is out, and now Sam knows that his older brother is weak.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice makes Dean open his eyes and look over. “Are you ashamed or something?” Sam’s brow is furrowed as he gazes at his brother. When Dean’s eyes meet his, Sam nods in understanding. “You are.” He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and leans forward, resting his elbows on his crossed knees. “You know, Dean, there’s nothing at all wrong with that. In fact, it’s completely understandable for you in particular.” Dean’s mouth drops as he stares at Sam incredulously. What the fuck is Sam talking about? He opens his mouth to ask Sam just that, when his brother holds up his hand. “Submissives tend to be people who are so in control of their lives, that it’s the only time they are able to let go. And if _anyone_ is in control of their life, Dean, it’s you.”

Dean snorts. How the hell does Sammy even _know_ this? “What, are you some sort of submissive expert?” he asks sarcastically.

Sam shrugs. “Maybe I’ve explored that lifestyle before. There was one girl, Ruby. She was really into the scene. We were only together for a couple months, but she introduced me to a lot. She was before Jess,” he finishes wistfully. 

Dean’s eyes are shocked at Sam’s confession. Seriously? Sam had _experience_? Normally, this was way too much info about his little brother. But right now he is both too drunk and too upset to let it bother him as much as it should. “Ruby, huh? How come you never told me about her before? Was she, you know…”

“Dominant?” At Dean’s nod, Sam grinned. “Was she ever. Although we switched a couple times. She was pretty sadistic, too. Liked blood play a lot.” Sam shivers. “I still don’t know if I enjoyed that part or not. The point is, Dean, that there was nothing wrong with me, and there is _certainly_ nothing wrong with you.”

Dean can’t do anything except stare at Sam for a few minutes as he processes everything Sam says. Sam lets him absorb the info, all the while smiling softly. “Dude,” Dean finally manages to croak out. “You sly dog, you!” He grins, it’s weak, but he’ll count it as a win. Sam and his stupid psychology bullcrap has actually given him something to think about. 

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, well, never thought I’d be telling my big brother about that either, so…” He shifts and his face gets serious again. “So what did you mean when you said you did something?”

Trust Sam to remember _that_. Guy has the memory of an elephant. Dean doesn’t want to talk anymore, but he did agree to Sam earlier. He takes a deep breath. “I had a nightmare,” he says softly. “Cas woke me up from it. I kinda, sorta...maybe clocked him in the jaw.” This time the self-recrimination is evident in his voice.

“Dean, you can’t beat yourself up over that.” Sam tries to placate him. “Hell, you’ve nailed me quite a few times, and I _know_ not to stand too close when I have to wake you. Seriously, I think you need to talk to Cas. Work this out, because like I said, you were so much better when you guys were together. And remember, there’s nothing at all wrong with you. It’s normal to feel like there is, but there _isn’t_.” 

Dean smiles softly. Maybe Sam has a point, maybe not. Either way, Dean _does_ owe it to Cas to explain. “Thanks, bitch.”

Sam smiles, a real one this time. “No problem, jerk.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains image that is NSFW! You have been warned!

Dean pulls up to Cas’s house a couple days later. He hasn’t talked to Cas since walking out on him, and has had his phone turned off. Now that he’s made the decision to apologize to him and try to work it out, the nerves are making him jittery. In all honesty, Castiel has every right to be pissed at him. But, knowing Cas, he won’t be.

Dean chews on his lower lip as he makes his way up to the front door. He rings the bell and waits. After a minute there is still no answer, and Dean scrubs a hand over his jaw before trying again. Please answer, Cas… He can hear movement inside, so Cas is home. But then why is he not answering the door? 

This time, Dean bangs on the door with his fist. “Cas!” he calls. “Hey, Cas! I know you’re in there! Open-” The door swings open before Dean can even finish his sentence. 

“Dean!” Cas looks haggard, like he hasn’t slept for a long time, and if he did then he slept in those clothes. Bags sit under his eyes, making them look sunken, and his hair is sticking up in disarray. The bruise that Dean put on him is faded already, even though it has only been a few days.

Dean’s heart pulls at the sight of him, but he offers a weak smile. “Hiya, Cas.” He is immediately swept into a crushing hug. Cas buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, and Dean feels horrified guilt when he feels the distinct wetness of tears soak through his shirt. Fuck Cas, don’t cry. He brings his arms up to encircle the other man, and kisses the top of his head. “‘M so fucking sorry, Cas.”

Castiel raises his head and looks at Dean with bloodshot eyes. “No, Dean. I am the one who needs to apologize. I failed to see that you needed more from me as your Dom, and because of that you doubted yourself.” He reaches down and grabs Dean’s hand, pulling him into the house, closing the door behind them.

He leads Dean to the couch, sitting down and pulling him with him. “Thank you for coming back, Dean.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably. Damn, he is not good at moments like this. Never has been. Between Cas and Sammy, he’s fulfilled a lifetime quota of ‘em. “I got your note,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or anything, I just...I just needed some time. To think.”

Cas nods in understanding. “I feel we most likely rushed into things without giving you time to adjust. That, too, is on me.” He sits there stiffly, shoulders radiating tension and shame. He looks so pathetically upset, that Dean feels another flare of guilt for making him feel that way.

Dean clenches his jaw. Castiel does not need to apologize, but his sense of responsibility seems to be almost as high as Dean’s. Dean has to put a stop to this, even if it means offering up some of Dean’s _own_ guilt, or at least making Cas think he is. “Cas, man. We can sit here and play the guilt game back and forth all day. Can we just...I want to put this behind us. I want to go back to what we were.” 

Those seem to be the magic words. As if a string is cut, the tension dissipates from Castiel’s shoulders. He leans forward and presses his lips to Dean’s hungrily, as though he’s dying of thirst and Dean is a large drink of water. 

Dean responds eagerly, needing this just as much as Cas. When he feels Cas push on his chest, he falls back easily, the other man on top of him. Hands are everywhere, shoving underneath shirts and tugging on hair. They kiss messily, no finesse just unbridled need, teeth knocking into each other in their eagerness.

Cas pulls away from Dean long enough to pull Dean’s shirt over his head, and then his lips are back. He tosses the shirt away, not caring when it lands on a heap on the floor. Dean’s own fingers are working on unbuttoning Cas’s wrinkled white dress shirt, shoving it off his shoulders when the last button pops free. When both their shirts are on the floor, Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s bared back, and greedily locks thier bodies together. He can feel Cas’s hardness against his own, and he grinds his hips up to meet it.

Cas growls into his mouth, and sucks Dean’s lower lip into his mouth, releasing it a moment later with a nip. Dean responds by wrapping his legs firmly around Castiel’s, holding him in place as Dean writhes against him. Dean knows if they don’t get their pants off soon, he’s going to come in his pants like a thirteen year old. That would be mortifying, so he releases Cas and scrambles to unbuckle his pants. Cas catches on immediately, and swiftly follows suit. In a minute their pants join the shirts on the floor, and they are back to clawing at each other.

“Dean,” Cas manages to gasp out. “I want you inside me...”

Dean pauses, pulling back and looking at Cas in surprise. “What? Cas, are you sure…” he rasps. 

“Yes. Very.” 

They don’t even make it to the bedroom. When Dean asks for lube, Cas just points to a bottle of lotion on the coffee table. The brief thought of whether or not Cas has left it there just for this purpose floats through Dean’s mind, but it’s quickly gone as Cas pulls them both to the floor, pushing the couch out of the way as he does so. 

Dean takes his time prepping, Cas is so tight, the last thing Dean wants is to hurt him. By the time he has three fingers in, Cas writhing and gasping underneath him. 

“Dean,” Cas hisses out, “I need you, _now_!”

Dean is certain that he won’t hurt Cas, so he slathers himself with the lotion and positions himself at Cas’s entrance. He doesn’t say anything, just pushes himself in. Cas is so tight, Dean almost comes right then. He doesn’t of course, he has more experience than that, but damn, it feels good! When Dean hits Cas’s prostate, the other man keens and his heels grind into the carpet. His cock is so hard and flush against his stomach. The heady scent of sweat and sex is in the air, and finally it is too much for Cas. He moans loudly as he comes, hooking his leg around Dean and slamming him home. The look of ecstasy on Cas’s face, combined with the physical sensations, push Dean over the edge, and he quickly follows Castiel.

Dean collapses on top of Cas, not caring about the mess. His muscles are quivering with the release of days’ worth of tension. Cas brings his arms up and wraps Dean in a hug, and Dean breathes deeply, inhaling the musky, manly scent of his lover. Huh. His _lover_. The thought doesn’t scare him, instead it comforts, like the feel of Cas’s arms. God, he’s turning into a girl. Sam would be proud.

He knows that he should get up and clean them up, but he doesn’t want to. He lays there for a couple of more minutes, before pushing himself up with a groan. “Just gonna grab a cloth, be right back.” Cas’s arms reluctantly let him go.

After cleaning them both up - and really, Dean is enjoying taking care of Cas for once - he flops down next to him. Cas’s eyes are closed and a contented smile is on his face.

“Cas,” Dean says, looking over at the man beside him. “Not that I’m complaining, because seriously, that was awesome, but why did you let me top you? Aren’t you supposed to be the one who always, uhhh...you know?”

Cas smiles, a lazy but happy smile. “I suppose that, yes, usually that is the case. But this had to happen for a few reasons. _You_ needed to feel like you are still a man.” Dean’s eyebrows raise at that, but he doesn’t say anything as Cas continues to check things off on his fingers. “ _I_ needed to show you that, just because we have a Dom-sub relationship, we are still equals. And mostly, I just needed you to fuck me.” 

Dean runs his tongue over his front teeth at those words. Man, Cas saying ‘fuck me’ is hot. Like, really, really hot. He offers Cas a megawatt smile. “Thanks, Cas,” he says. And means it.

Later, when the two of them are curled on the couch together watching _Alien_ , Dean’s phone beeps. He disentangles himself and goes over to his jeans, now neatly folded on the armchair. He tugs his phone out of the pocket and flips it open. It’s a message from his brother.

_I assume you two worked it out since you’re not home yet. Play safe, big bro_

Dean chuckles fondly. Cas looks over, a question on his face. “Just Sam, being Sam.”

_We’re good. Have a good night Sammy_

*~*~*~*~

Dean puts a plate of food down in front of Castiel with a flourish. “Voila!” he says. “Pasta a la Dean.” The bright red tomatoes and the fresh green basil leaves nestled in amongst juicy pieces of chicken _do_ look extremely appetizing, and Cas leans forward and takes a deep inhale of the steam rising from the plate in front of him. 

“This smells incredible, Dean,” he says approvingly.

“And now you know how to make it!” Dean adds as he sits down in front of his own plate. 

“I admit, it looks to be quite simple. I feel I can do this again without your guidance. I have never really eaten much pasta in the past.” Cas takes a bite and his eyes light up. “It’s good! Thank you, Dean.”

“Toldja,” Dean says around his own mouthful.

For the next few minutes, the only sound is metal forks on the plates, and it’s not until the meal is almost finished that Cas speaks up. “Dean,” he says pointedly. “I wish to ask you something.”

Dean glances up, a piece of spaghetti dangling from his mouth. He sucks it up, wiping the sauce that splatters with his napkin as Cas watches, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Shoot,” he says.

Cas leans back in his chair. “Would you be willing to go into the play area of The Den? I feel that it will be beneficial to you to see other submissives, particularly other _male_ subs.”

Dean pauses and thinks about that for a moment. “Would we be, uhhh...doing anything?”

Cas shrugs. “Not if you don’t want to. But you can talk to other submissives and see that they are regular people, comfortable in their sexuality.”

Dean’s tongue flicks out as he thinks about it, licking the red sauce from his lips. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. He’s been curious about what happens in that part of the club since that first night, and the thought of being able to see it is exciting. Not to mention that Cas has a point. There seems to be a roadblock in his mind when it comes to tying his masculinity into his newly discovered submission. Seeing other guys in his position probably _would_ help break that down. “When do you want to go?”

The smile that Cas offers him is awesome, and the other man straightens his shoulders. “Well, I have tonight off, if you would like?”

It’s Tuesday. Cas usually works on Tuesday. “Don’t you work tonight?” he asks, confused.

“I gave a couple shifts to Becky. She has a wedding coming up, and needs to make some more money.” Cas shakes his head, a strange look on his face. “Apparently, weddings are very expensive. I was quite shocked when Becky told me how much she has already spent on hers.”

Dean chuckles at that. “So I hear,” he agrees, before sobering. “So. Tonight, huh?”

“Only if you want to.” 

“Sure. We can do that, uhhh….tonight.”

“There is one more thing,” Cas adds hesitantly. He shifts in his seat, as though he doesn’t want to say the next part to Dean. 

Well, that’s never a good sign. “Oh?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“The submissives in The Den wear collars,” he says softly. Dean’s eyes widen, and Cas hurries to add, “You don’t _have_ to, but almost all of them are there with their Dominants, and it is a way to show that they are in a Dominant-submissive relationship.”

“‘M not a dog, Cas!” Dean snaps. The hurt look on Castiel’s face almost makes him ask for the collar right then and there, but he can’t wrap his head around that. It would be one thing to try in the bedroom, just the two of them, _maybe_...but in _public_? No way. Not happening. 

“I never said you were a dog, Dean,” Cas says. “It’s not meant in that way. Most submissives are honored to receive their collar.” The way he says the last part, almost wistfully, makes Dean think Cas has thought about giving him a collar. Most likely on more than one occasion.

Dean closes his eyes, as much to block that look from his face as to collect his thoughts. “Look, Cas. I’m down for going in there tonight. That’s all good, and I think you’re right about it.” Now he opens his eyes and forces himself to look Cas in the eyes. “But a collar? I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Not in public, at least not yet. Maybe we can try that part alone first?” he compromises. Hesitation colors his voice. The thought of having a collar at _all_ just doesn’t sit right. But then again, he’s never even thought about it, and the suggestion took him off guard. Maybe after he sees the other subs in The Den he might understand a little better. Maybe. Probably.

Cas offers him a small but understanding smile. “Of course, Dean. I would ask that you stay beside me, then. I just do not want other Dominants to touch you, and not having a collar…”

Huh. Cas is possessive. Who'd've thought? Dean nods. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

*~*~*~*~

When they pull up to The Den, a different bouncer than Dean usually sees greets them. He talks to Cas for a few minutes, and confirms that Dean is Cas’s partner, and then waves them through to the play rooms. It’s the first time Dean passes the bar doors to head further down the hall, and the door to the bar is propped open tonight. Dean glances through them as they pass, and catches a quick glimpse of long blond hair in a girl-next-door pretty face. Huh. That must be Becky.

Cas pushes the doors to the play area open, and Dean is greeted with a dimly lit room, groups of people milling about. Some are clothed, some are fully naked, and others only partially. Many of them have collars in various styles around their necks, and a few even have leashes attached. Okay, he’s so not into the leash thing…Dean looks past the people to the room itself. At either end are red doors, spaced evenly apart. What’s behind door number one…? 

Cas notices him looking at them curiously. “Those are private and group play rooms. They contain different types of furniture and toys, even the proper equipment for suspension bondage.”

Suspension bondage, hey? Could be fun. “Have you ever used one?” Dean asks.

Cas nods the affirmative. “Many times. They contain a lot of things that I do not have at home. Maybe one day we can use one. But for now we are just here to give you an opportunity to see what it’s like, and to talk to others.”

They walk past a couple practicing bondage ties, one guy using another for a footstool, and a group watching a not-so-private flogging. Dean’s eyes widen as he takes it all in. He thought he had a pretty good grasp of what a fetish club would entail, but there is so much more happening than he expected. Although he is grateful that Cas isn’t throwing him right into the lion’s den, so to speak. He’s not sure he would want to have any of their... _fun_...in a public setting.

“Hello, Castiel,” a nasally voice greets them from behind. “And who is this delicious piece of…” A sniff. “Meat?” 

Cas turns around slowly, his hand tightening where is rests on Dean’s shoulder. A tall, thin man stands there, eyeing Dean up and down hungrily. He has a neatly trimmed beard sprinkled with gray, and narrow blue eyes that remind Dean of ice -- cold and hard. “Alastair,” Cas says coolly. “I assume you are here with someone?” He doesn’t introduce Dean. In fact, he pulls Dean back and away from the other man. Dean appreciates the gesture, but he can take care of himself. He _is_ a hunter, after all. But there’s another part of him that is grateful to Cas; there is something about this creep that gives Dean the heebs. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s there, in the back of his mind. Like an itch he can’t scratch.

Alastair doesn’t take his eyes off of Dean. He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture as he takes a step forward to match Dean’s backwards one. “Oh, you know how subs are these days. Always running off if you don’t keep them on a tight leash.” He crooks an eyebrow. “And I seem to have dropped my leash.” 

“What do you want, Alastair?” Cas growls.

Alastair straightens, and turns his gaze to Cas. “Just an introduction, Castiel. I hardly think that’s too much to ask. Then I’ll be on my merry little way.”

Cas clenches his jaw so hard, Dean can see the muscle jumping. “I’m Dean,” Dean says, his voice equally as cool as Cas’s. 

“Dean.” Alastair says his name like he’s trying it on for size, and Dean can’t help the shiver that runs up his spine. Cas squeezes his shoulder in reassurance. “Pleasure to meet you, Dean. See? Was that so hard?” He steps to the side to make his way past them. “I’ll be seeing you, Dean.” He says nothing more to Castiel, just walks past them, humming a tune as he goes. 

Dean leans in to whisper in Cas’s ear. “Dude, that guy was seriously creepy.”

Cas nods in agreement. “That’s Alastair, a sadistic bastard if there ever was one. I am constantly amazed that he manages to find partners willing to play with him.” He leads Dean in the opposite direction of where Alastair headed. “Come, let’s go meet some other people. I know someone I think you’ll really like.”

They reach a couple of people sitting on one of the couches. Dean’s eyes immediately notice the chrome collar wrapped around the neck of the smaller one. He has messy brown hair and a scruffy beard that oddly suits his face to a tee. He isn’t wearing a top, but loose black pants cover his bottom half. A wide, welcoming smile appears on his face as Dean and Cas approach. 

Dean looks to the person sitting beside him. A woman, and a gorgeous one at that. Brown hair flows over her shoulders, and frames a face with stunning eyes. A self assured smile is on her lips, and Dean flashes a megawatt grin in her direction. Her grin widens even further.

“Dean, I’d like to introduce you to Pamela and Chuck.” Cas motions at each one in turn. “I have known Chuck for quite a few years. In fact, I introduced him to Pamela.” 

“Hey,” Dean greets them both.

Pamela stands and looks Dean up and down, but not in the eerie way of Alastair. “Castiel, I am _impressed_ ,” she says with a wink at Cas. “He’s cute!” Dean feels his face flush, much to Pamela’s amusement. She reaches behind him and pinches his ass firmly, causing Dean to jump and his face to heat up even further. Pamela cackles in delight. “I like him!” And okay, maybe Dean likes her, too. In a friendly way, of course. She’s confident and bold. And really hot. But Cas is. _Right. There_. So enough with the ass pinching!

“Pamela!” Cas scolds. 

She raises her eyebrows. “What? I do.” She turns to Chuck. “You gonna say hello, baby?”

The man pushes himself off the couch and offers his hand. “Hi!” he greets. He stands slightly behind Pamela, and Dean is struck at how odd of a couple they are. He would have never pegged them for being together if he saw them elsewhere.

He shakes the hand firmly. “Hey.” 

Cas motions to an empty table nearby. “Pamela, I would like to talk to you about something. I am certain that Dean and Chuck will be fine on their own for a bit.” Nice Cas. Not obvious at all.

Cas and Pamela move away towards the vacant table, and Dean is left with Chuck. There is a moment of awkward silence. Dean searches his mind for something to say. “Uhhh...nice collar.”

Chuck grins widely. “Thanks, man! I just got it, like, a month ago! I’ve wanted one for a while, and now that I have one…” He trails off happily, running his fingers against the smooth metal. 

Dean furrows his brows. “Wanted one?” Sounds like it’s some sort of _reward_ or something.

“Yeah, totally. It’s like, the ultimate symbol of our relationship.” He looks at Dean’s bare neck. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you don’t have one. Sometimes my foot goes in my mouth. My Mistress says I have to work on that when I talk to others.” Chuck shrugs apologetically.

Dean blinks. ‘No, it’s...uhhh...fine. Kinda my choice. I’m pretty...new to this kind of stuff.” 

Now Chuck nods in understanding. “Ahh. I get it, man. I get it. We all were at some point.” He steps back and looks at Dean. His head tilts in a gesture eerily reminiscent of Castiel. “You aren’t too comfortable in your ‘submissive skin’, are you?” he asks, using air quotes. Again, just like Cas. Dean wonders briefly if Chuck picked up those traits from Cas. “How many freak outs have you had?” he asks pointedly.

What the hell? “How did you know?” Dean asks, eyeing the smaller man warily. Cas wouldn’t say anything...would he?

Chuck shrugs offhandedly. “I can just see things about people sometimes. No biggie. Seriously, though. How many?”

Dean is so caught off guard by Chuck’s forwardness that he just stands there a moment. This is just so... _weird_. But the whole point of him coming here was to talk to other subs, so...what the heck? “A couple, I guess.”

Chuck sits back down and pats the seat next to him. Dean flicks his tongue over his lips in an embarrassed gesture, but sits down anyways and gestures for Dean to continue.

Dean leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “I...Well, I…” He trails off uncomfortably, unsure how to even talk about this. “I guess I’ve always considered myself a macho guy. Heck, I almost slept exclusively with women. A _lot_ of women. And it’s just...weird to...let that go? Fuck, I don’t know.” He scratches his forehead with his thumb. “Yeah, I don’t really know how to explain it.” He laughs uncomfortably.

“That makes sense, Dean.” Chuck leans against the couch’s arm and regards Dean knowingly. “And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way. Heck, it was hard for me at first to become a submissive to a woman! I had always tried to be the _man_ in my relationships, you know?” Dean nods. Oh, he knows, all right. “But suddenly _I’m_ the one bending over and taking it, so to speak. Took a while to get used to.” 

Dean rubs his hands together and looks at Chuck. “But you did? Get used to it, I mean?”

Chuck smiles widely. “Oh, yeah. Did I ever! And let me tell you, it’s _great_! The point is, almost all of us have gone through what you are in some way, shape, or form. It’s perfectly natural! Now, my favorite thing in the world is when my strong, sexy Mistress ties me up so I can’t move an inch,” he adds with a waggle of his eyebrows. “It’s _awesome_.”

Huh. That _does_ sound awesome. Dean has been craving more of that since the first time he and Cas slept together. Dean glances over at Cas sitting on the other side of the room and catches his eye. He smiles softly at him. Okay, talking with Chuck helps, as Cas obviously knew it would. Now, more than ever, Dean is comfortable with _this_. It’s a good feeling.

*~*~*~*~

“So, Dean. What did you think about The Den?” Cas asks, voice filled with curiosity, as they are pulling up to Cas’s house. 

“Pretty neat, actually.” Dean looks over at Cas as he climbs out of the car. They make their way up to the front door. “Chuck is pretty cool. Pamela, too.” He scrunches his nose. “That Alastair guy though…”

Cas hums in agreement. “Yes. Alastair...leaves much to be desired. I am glad you had a good talk with Chuck though.”

Dean steps into the house and immediately undresses. When he pulls his jeans off, he turns to Castiel, who is watching him with a hungry gleam in his eyes. He steps up to him and runs his hands over his body, cupping Cas’s hardening dick through his pants. Dean licks his lips. “Cas, I mean, Sir...I…Could we…?” He bites his lower lip, wanting to ask but unsure of how. His eyes flick nervously to the floor. Can submissives even _ask_ for things? He’s pretty sure they can, but not sure enough to come right out and ask. Probably should have double checked with Chuck.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas grasps both of Dean’s shoulders in his hands. The feel of his hands is reassuring. “You can ask me for anything.”

Damn, does Cas have psychic powers or something? It’s like he read Dean’s mind. He swallows and tries again. “Can we try some more bondage stuff? Like, with the ropes and shit?”

Castiel’s chuckles. “Of course we can! Why don’t you head into the bedroom, and I’ll be in shortly. I just need to gather a couple things.”

Like what? Isn’t all of Cas’s kinky shit already _in_ the bedroom? Whatever. He’ll find out soon enough. Dean heads into the bedroom and sits on the bed to wait for Cas.

After a minute, Cas comes in with a bottle of red Gatorade in one hand and some sort of chocolate bar in the other. Dean raises an eyebrow but chooses not to comment as Cas puts them on the nightstand within easy reach of the bed.

When he heads to the dresser and pulls out several shanks of rope, this time both red and black, Dean can’t suppress the whimper of need that escapes his throat. He’s only been tied up once, and can’t wait for more.

“Dean, I want you to tell me at any point if the ropes are too tight for you.” Cas waits for Dean’s nod before continuing. “Good boy. Stand up for me, please.”

Dean does. Eagerly. Cas slowly and with great care twines the rope around him, forming intricate knots as it loops around his torso. Dean watches avidly as a symmetrical red harness takes shape around him. When Cas pulls his arms behind his head and picks up the black shank of rope, Dean releases a nervous breath.

“Everything all right, Dean?” Cas asks. Dean nods languidly. Cas continues to wrap the rope up Dean’s arms, attaching it to the harness he had made in the back. The whole process takes about fifteen minutes, and Dean feels relaxed and at ease by the time Cas finishes. Cas turns him so he can look at himself in the mirror, and Dean gasps at the sight before him. His upper half is secure in the red rope as it crisscrosses back and forth around his upper body, and the diamond-like pattern emphasizes his musculature and strength. It continues down and wraps around his cock and balls before disappearing underneath. The black rope that holds his arms behind his head joins the red which curls around his shoulders and chest in detailed twists and knots. The way Cas has done it even makes his scar blend in! It looks incredible! 

“Oh…” he breathes.

“Everything comfortable? Nothing is too tight, is it?” Cas asks, stepping up behind Dean and looking at him in the mirror. 

“No, Sir. It feels awesome.” He continues to stare at himself in the mirror, amazed at the level of detail present in something that seems so simple. 

Cas smiles widely as he rubs his hands over the rope that encases Dean’s arms. “It _looks_ amazing on you.” Cas turns him and guides him to the bed, helping him onto it. “On your knees, and spread your legs for me. I want you to not move from that spot, and keep your head up.”

Dean braces himself like he’s been told and feels Cas step away from him. He tries to look over his shoulder to see what Cas is up to, but a firm hand on the back of his neck stops him. 

“Face the headboard, Dean.” He huffs, but does as he’s told. “Good boy. Because you’re so good for me, I will give you a choice.”

As it does every time, the praise makes a warm feeling spread through his chest as he waits to hear his options.

“Would you like the paddle, my dear boy, or the flogger?”

Dean loves impact play. The burn that he is left with feels amazing. Which to choose, though? He’s had the paddle, but the flogger sounds interesting. He takes a moment to think about it.

Apparently his moment is taking too long though, because Cas’s voice is sharp when he says, “I asked you a question, Dean.”

Oh shit. “The flogger.”

“Ask me properly, Dean.”

“The flogger please, Sir,” he breathes out. His cock is beginning to fill already as he kneels on the bed.

“Twenty strokes, Dean. You will count them for me out loud.”

Cas starts out light, but the first feel of the falls against the skin of his ass still makes him jump. “One, Sir.”

The next stroke hits him directly to the left, a little harder. “Two, Sir.” 

Each hit gets progressively harder, and by the time they reach the fifteenth stroke, Dean is gasping and his cock is rock hard in its bonds. Apparently this was not an exercise in chastity, for which Dean is thankful. 

Cas is good at this. He knows just how long to wait in between each strike to ensure Dean feels the maximum burn, alternating between his legs and his ass, the only parts of him not bound in rope.

When the sixteenth strikes the back of his already reddened thighs, Dean can’t help but yelp. “Sixteen, Sir.” Seventeen through nineteen hit exactly the same spot, and Dean moans out, “nineteen, Sir.”

One more. One more for Cas. He can do one more for Cas. The falls fly through the air and land perfectly across his ass, harder than any of the other strikes, and he gasps out, “tw-twenty, Sir.”

His lower body is on fire, and he knows if he were to see it it would be red and hot, matching the rope around his torso. The tails of the flogger drift lightly up and down his body, and he shivers in pleasure. Cas continues that for a few minutes, before putting the flogger down. Castiel then come up behind him and Dean moans when his Dom rubs the reddened flesh gently. 

“Such a good boy. My good, good boy,” Cas’s soothing voice whispers in his ear as his hand continues to soothe the burn. “So proud, Dean. You did so well for me. You can relax.”

The combination of the flogging and the bondage have Dean writhing on the bed. His eyes squeeze shut and sparks fly beneath his closed eyelids. He bites his lower lip in his teeth and his muscles quiver. 

“Dean.” Cas’s hand moves up to rub his back through the rope. 

Dean opens his mouth to answer, and a part of him is horrified at the groan that is what escapes him, but most of his mind is caught up in a lazy swirl. He feels _high_. Like, really high. And he didn’t even come… For some reason this feels more intense than any of their other play.

He barely notices when Cas releases the rope around his arms and then his body. He blinks slowly and from his vantage point on the bed, sees Cas gather a comfortable looking blanket from his closet. He’s not cold, is he? 

Castiel urges Dean fully onto the bed. Dean complies, and Cas wraps him in the blanket before climbing onto the bed beside Dean. He pulls Dean to him, his hands rubbing Dean’s arms through the blanket. 

Dean is just drifting off into a comfortable sleep, when Cas nudges him awake. “Mmm,” he gives a sleepy protest.

“Sleep in a moment, Dean, just have a drink and a bite of chocolate for me first.”

Dean sits up with Cas’s help and washes down the chocolate with the gatorade, making a face at the taste. Red Gatorade sucks. Blue is better. He makes a mental note to tell Cas that as he finishes the bottle, but before he can open his mouth to do so, his body has other ideas and he drifts to a contented sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Cas narrows his eyes and looks Dean up and down. “I believe you are wearing too many clothes. I want you to strip, slowly, and lay on the bed.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate, he pulls off his clothes off and climbs onto the bed. When Dean is lying there, staring at his fully clothed Dom with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, he smirks. “Well, _one_ of us is a bit overdressed here, and I don’t think it’s me.”

Cas growls, actually fucking _growls_ , and the next instant he is pulling his own clothes off. Cas climbs on the bed and lowers himself so he is pressed against Dean, a solid heavy weight that feels so damn good.

Cas pulls Dean’s hands above his head. “Keep them there for me, my good boy. If you move them, you don’t get your reward.”

Dean grins. “Reward, huh?”

“Mmmhmm,” Cas says, twisting so he can suckle on Dean’s ear. Fuck, it feels amazing and Dean writhes on the bed, encouraging noises making their way out of his throat. Cas’s hand snakes down between them, and his thumb flicks over the head of Dean’s cock, causing it to harden even further. It is taking all of Dean’s considerable willpower to not bring his hands down and touch Castiel like he so desperately wants to.

Dean feels Cas’s teeth graze lightly down his chest, and he hisses when they reach a nipple. Jesus, his nipples are sensitive, that tickles! He squirms, but doesn’t lower his hands, and Cas huffs a laugh against his skin.

“Ticklish here, I see,” he murmurs, before offering Dean mercy and moving on, laying kisses down Dean’s stomach. When he reaches a hipbone, he bites down and begins sucking hard. 

Dean arches his back off the bed, and starts to bring his hands down instinctively. Cas pulls away and looks at him sharply, but doesn’t say a word. Dean swallows heavily and once again stills his arms above his head.

The ghost of a breath whispers over his cock, and Dean bites his lip. Come on, Cas, just a little further...A tongue darts out and slides up the bottom of his shaft, and Dean thrusts his hips up, begging with his body for Cas to just blow him already!

“More, please,” he gasps, only to frown in disappointment when Cas moves away to the other hip. His cock is rock hard and leaking, aching for Castiel to touch it again.

Cas pauses from the hip he is intent on tasting every inch of, and whispers, “Ask me nicely, Dean.”

“Please, Sir. Please fuck me.” Dean’s voice is breathless as he responds to Castiel’s words.

Cas sits up and reaches towards the dresser, and Dean feels a tremor of excitement run through his body. But it’s not just lube in Cas’s hands. Dean’s eyes widen at the ring in his hands.

“Wha-?” He starts to say, but is immediately hushed by Cas’s fingers at his lips.

“You’ll like this,” Cas promises.

Yeah, not likely. That thing is supposed to make him not able to come. How will that be fun? He choses not to say anything, although his lips form a pout, causing Cas to shake his head in exasperation. 

“Onto your stomach, Dean. Raise your ass and keep your hands at your head.”

Dean does as he is asked, settling himself comfortably and lifting his butt up. 

Cas shifts, and suddenly Dean feels fingers pressing at his entrance. They’re already slick, and Dean wiggles his ass in anticipation, turning his head and watching as Castiel intently preps him.

When Dean is sufficiently stretched, Castiel sinks into him. They both moan in pleasure, and Dean can’t help but think how perfect this moment is. He feels the soft, smooth expanse of Castiel’s skin on his back and the feeling of fullness inside of him that just feels so right. He knows in that moment that he needs Cas, like he needs air and food, and he won't be complete without him.

Once again, he starts to bring his hands down, desperate to touch himself, but Cas stops him. “No, Dean. I have not given you permission to move your hands. Keep them by your head, or do you not want to come?” 

He groans out. It’s torturous, not being able to touch either himself or Cas, but Dean knows that’s all a part of the game. His throbbing dick bobs against his stomach in time with Cas’s rhythm.

When Cas switches his angle and the speed of his thrusts, Dean is lost in another world that solely revolves around pleasure. Every time Cas’s thrusts hit him _there_ , an electric thrill pulses throughout his body and he moans obscenely. The band around his cock is preventing him from coming, and the torture of that is exciting in a way he never would have thought. 

Castiel is panting heavily, and Dean can feel the sweat beading on his stomach. After what feels like an eternity of pleasure warring with discomfort, he feels Cas stutter to a stop in him, and he squeezes, milking Cas’s cock for all he’s worth. And when Cas pulls off the cock ring that is binding him and tells him to come, his vision whites out and he cries out in ecstasy, riding the waves of one of the most intense orgasms of his life. 

Dean comes back to himself in increments. His eyes remain closed, and aftershocks run through him. The bed shifting as Cas pulls out. Cas’s hands gently flipping him over onto his back. The sound of water running as a washcloth is prepared. When he feels Cas running the washcloth down his skin, he lazily blinks his eyes open. “That. Was. Awesome.”

“I would agree with that statement. I knew you would like it.” says Cas with a nod and a smile, before he grins widely. Oh crap. That looks spells trouble, but in a good way. Cas can’t be ready to go again, can he? That’s not even physically possible!

“Cas?” Dean questions.

“Hold still for me, Dean.” A firm hand holds his shoulders down, even though Dean has no intention of moving after a direct order.

When he feels something hard pressing at his entrance, he lets out a surprised squeak. “What-?” Cas is beside him, so is that what he thinks it is? 

“I just want to make sure none of this leaks out.” Cas replies casually. “Can’t have you making a mess, can we?”

Dean groans as the plug slips into him. Oh _God_...

Cas pats his ass when he is finished. “Good boy,” he says, his voice cheerful. He scoots Dean over before he settles down to hold him. And Dean would have never thought being little spoon could be so nice. The plug in his ass is a solid weight, and his cock gives an interested twitch at the thought of Cas’s come still locked inside him. It really is too bad that it is too soon to go again.

They lay together on the bed, Cas running his hands up and down Dean’s arms lightly. They don’t speak, just lay there enjoying the feel of one another. Dean is so content, his eyes begin to drift closed. After a long, lazy while, Cas shifts and gets up off the bed. “We should get up. I have plans for us and I do not want to be late. We still need to shower.”

Dean blinks. What kind of plans? “Uhh, Cas?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“What about…” He wiggles his ass a bit, hoping Castiel will get the hint.

He does. “What about it?” 

Dean catches the mischievous glint in Cas’s eyes, and he groans. That’s just plain mean! “Really?” he asks plaintively as he follows Cas into the bathroom.

Castiel doesn’t answer, not that Dean is really expecting one. Instead, he reaches over and turns on the shower. When he deems the temperature sufficient, he gestures Dean to step in first, patting his ass when he does. Dean gasps at the sensation before stepping under the spray, making room for Castiel to follow him in. 

The water cascades down Dean’s back, running in rivulets along the lines of hard muscle. God, Cas has phenomenal water pressure!

He feels Cas’s arms wrap around him from behind, and he leans back into the other man, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. He reaches for the body wash, only to have it plucked out of his hands. He turns around and looks at Cas, a question in his eyes.

“I want to wash you,” Cas whispers roughly in his ear. He squeezes a generous amount into his hands, and looks at Dean through dark lashes as his hands reach up and gently begin to massage the soap into Dean’s neck and shoulders. Cas works his way down each arm, even ensuring he takes the time to wash each of Dean’s fingers. Dean groans in pleasure and tosses his head back. 

Castiel lowers himself to his knees and soaps up Dean’s cock. “Gorgeous. You are so gorgeous, my good boy,” Cas says as he gently kisses Dean’s stomach.

Dean can feel himself get hard underneath the ministrations, even though he has recently come, but all too soon Cas has moved on to the front of his legs.

Cas stands and turns Dean around, repeating the process on his back side. He reaches Dean’s ass, and playfully pushes on the plug as he cleans around it. Dean jumps, but doesn’t complain. When Dean’s body is thoroughly cleaned, Castiel reaches forward and squeezes some shampoo into his hand. He tilts Dean’s head back and strong fingers massage the shampoo into Dean’s scalp. Thank god Cas has a manly shampoo. Dean has zero desire to walk around smelling like strawberries or some shit like that.

When Cas is finished - too soon, too damn soon - he grasps Dean’s chin in his hand and pulls him in for a brief kiss. It’s chaste. Loving. Dean wants more and whines slightly in the back of his throat, but when he tries to deepen the kiss, Cas pulls away, smirking. 

Dean huffs. Tease. “My turn to wash you?” he asks hopefully.

“Next time. We will be late if we take much longer in here. Why don’t you go dry off? I will be out in a minute.” Cas begins swiftly soaping himself up.

Dean’s shoulders slump in disappointment. Not fair.

“I promise I will make it up to you later, my good boy, but please go get ready.”

Dean sighs, but leaves to do as he’s told, thoughts of how Cas can make it up to him already running through his head.

*~*~*~*~

“Dean, I have to confess something to you,” Cas says, glancing over at him.

Oh shit. Confessions are never good. “Yeah? What’s up?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks away from the window and over to Cas. 

Cas shifts uncomfortably behind the wheel. He takes one hand off and tugs at his collar. “I…Umm…” Dean waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts and finish. “I don’t really know how to say this.”

Totally not good. Dean heart thuds wildly in his chest as he braces himself for the words he knows are coming. He clenches his hands into fists, willing the pain of his nails digging into his palms to help him focus. He knew this was too good to be true. 

Castiel grips the steering wheel tightly and blurts out, “I think I’m in love with you!” 

Dean opens his mouth to say ‘it’s okay, I understand’, when Cas’s words hit him. Not what he was expecting. Not at all. He shuts his mouth with a snap, eyes wide as they stare at Cas. 

After a minute, Cas clears his throat. “Dean?” Cas says timidly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said. I know it’s so soon-”

Dean shakes his head roughly. “No! Cas, sorry, I just...Just caught me off guard, is all.” His hands relax and he scrubs a hand over his jaw, and chuckles. “That’s way more pleasant than I expected when you said you had a confession to make.” Cas tilts his head and crinkles his brow. Damn, that’s way cuter than it should be. “I uhhh...Shit, Cas. I love you too, okay?” And Dean is pleasantly surprised to discover that is true. Wow. 

The answering smile from Castiel is so bright it’s nearly blinding. Totally worth the chick flick moment. Happiness swells in his chest, and his hand snakes over to rest lightly on Castiel’s thigh. One of Cas’s hands sneaks down off the steering wheel to intertwine his fingers with Dean’s. They are silent for a few minutes, both reveling in the joy that permeates the vehicle. 

“So, Cas, where’re you taking me, anyways?” Dean asks, watching the trees pass outside the windshield.

“I wish to take you out for a nice dinner,” Cas replies. “I wanted to treat you tonight, since you have been such a good boy for me.”

Dean sits straighter in his seat at the praise. Hells yeah!

They pull into a parking lot, and Dean looks up at the building in awe. Wow. The place looks like a freaking _castle_. Dean looks down at his clothes. Jeans and a black tee. Is he dressed right for this? Surely Cas would’ve said something. His eyes travel up and down his Dom’s outfit. Of _course_ Cas would fit in, dressed in his usual outfit. How many white shirts does the guy even own? Dean makes a mental note to check when they get back to his house before following Cas out of the car.

“Hello, I have a reservation for six-thirty. Under Novak,” Cas informs the hostess when she greets them warmly. Dean glances around surreptitiously, relieved to see several other guys also wearing jeans. Okay, so at least he won’t stick out like a sore thumb.

The hostess takes them to their reserved booth, a half circle booth at the back of the restaurant. She places the menus on the table, eyes the two men appreciatively, and sashays away. Dean doesn’t even give her another thought. 

“So, what? Is this a date, Mr. Novak?” Dean sits down in the booth, the red leather squeaking slightly when he sits. He is happy to have his back to the wall where he can keep an eye on his surroundings. He settles himself down, and feels the plug in his ass shift a bit. Thank god Cas didn’t pick a large one, or he _might_ not make it through the meal in one piece. Then he remembers what the plug is keeping in, and promptly decides he _still_ might not make it through the meal in one piece. 

“Of course,” Castiel replies, pretending to be oblivious to Dean’s thoughts. But the gleam in his eye shows differently. He picks up a menu and starts to peruse it, so Dean does the same, putting thoughts of how to get Cas into the bathroom out of his mind for the moment.

He scans the menu. Oh, crap. This place is a lot fancier than any place he’s ever eaten at, having grown up on roadside diner food. He is totally going to look stupid trying to figure out what all these fancy words are.

He’s just in the mental process of trying to figure out what the hell an osso bucco is when their waiter arrives to take their drink orders. Oh, good. Something he _knows_. He orders a pint of beer, and then smirks widely when Castiel orders a screwdriver. Girly drink.

“What?” Cas asks him after the waiter leaves to get their drinks.

“Nothin,” Dean says, shrugging his shoulders. He picks up the menu again and attempts to decide what he wants.

His confusion must show on his face, because Castiel plucks the menu out of his hands and says, “I will order for you,” in his sexiest Dom voice. Dean smiles gratefully.

When the waiter returns with their drinks and asks if they are ready to order, Cas nods and fires off with a whole bunch of words that sound like they belong in some foreign flick. It’s...kind of _hot_ , actually. The waiter smiles at them and leaves the two men alone in the booth.

Dean and Cas sit and wait for their food, enjoying the company of one another and making small talk. Dean is surprised at how comfortable he is, being seen with another guy in a public setting. Romantically. He is even more surprised at the lack of stares they get. He had been expecting at least one glare of disgust, but nobody seems to care that two guys are on a date. It’s...refreshing.

The plates of food arrive, and Dean eyes his with interest. Whatever Cas ordered him smells, and looks, delicious. Dean waits until Cas starts to eat, unconsciously letting his Dom have a few bites before he digs in enthusiastically. Cas smiles at him and pats his leg under the table, causing Dean to flush. 

“How do you like it, Dean?” Cas asks after he has tried a couple bites of his dinner.

Dean nods and swallows. “It’s really good,” he says. He’s about to put another bite in, when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The fork pauses on it’s way to his mouth and he glances around. He knows this feeling. Something is watching them. He eyes the other patrons. Everyone is absorbed in their food or companions, and not one person even glancing their way.

“Dean?” Cas questions.

“Huh?” Dean startles, and looks over at Cas.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, uhh, nothing. Just thinking about something Sam said earlier. Sorry.” He lifts up the fork to his mouth again and takes a bite. Cas shrugs and goes back to his own food. Dean swallows the food, and it feels heavy going down. Suddenly he isn’t all that hungry. But he tries to cover it up, because Cas is enjoying this, and Dean’ll be damned if he lets something ruin this for Cas. 

The feeling of being watched intensifies, and Dean swallows the bite of food and glances around the restaurant nonchalantly, trying to pinpoint where the feeling is coming from. His eyes flick out the window and catch sight of a figure on the other side of the road. Dean’s breath catches in his throat when he sees him. Is that…? Yes. Alastair, that freak from the club, is leaning casually against the brick wall across the road, not even trying to hide the fact that he is watching them. Them? _Him_. Alastair is watching Dean, ignoring Castiel completely.

The fact that Cas is oblivious to Alastair isn’t lost on Dean, and he tries to figure out a way to get out of here without leaving through the front door. But somehow he doubts that the restaurant staff would be open to him and Cas leaving through the back.  
Dean pushes his plate to the side, his appetite leaving him completely at the slimy feeling he has creeping up his spine. Across the way, Alastair’s arms cross over his chest and he smiles. The fucking creep.

“Dean? Is it not good?” Castiel asks, head tilting adorably, mouth curving down in a frown.

Dean’s hands clench under the table, the desire to run across the street and punch that smirk off of Alastair’s face eating at him. He pushes the feeling down and concentrates on Cas. _If_ Alastair tries anything, Dean is more than capable of handling him. He’s just a freaking human, after all.

“Just, uhh...just not quite as hungry as I thought.” He grins at Cas, but it obviously falls flat, because Castiel puts down his knife and fork with a sigh.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, Cas. I’m just gonna get this to go, if that’s all right.” He knocks Cas’s knee with his own. “Everything’s okay.” But the feeling of Alastair’s eyes on him as Castiel finishes his own meal doesn’t leave, and the lie sits heavy on Dean’s tongue. 

Ten minutes later, Cas finishes his meal, and requests the bill. He doesn’t let Dean see what it came to, but Dean knows it is a lot. The fact that they didn’t even list prices on the menu told him that much, at least. They get the remains of Dean’s meal packed to go, and stand to leave. Dean scans the alley, and can’t see Alastair anywhere. The fact should comfort him, but for some reason it only enhances the feeling that something is wrong, hunter instincts going haywire. 

Dean and Cas get to the car without incident, however, and Dean lets himself start to unwind on the drive back to Cas’s place. “Thanks for dinner, Cas,” he says. 

“It is my pleasure, Dean,” Cas responds with a smile. 

Dean looks out the window, wondering what the fuck Alastair is playing at. He is still too much on edge, and he focuses on Cas explaining the finer points of _A Clockwork Orange_ as they pull into the drive and get out of the car. Dean nods along, even though he never really cared for the movie. But Cas seems so enthused and if Dean has to admit anything to himself, it’s that Cas is fucking _cute_ when he is enthused.

Cas tosses his keys onto the coffee table and is pulling his trenchcoat off as he tells Dean how the movie was one of two X-rated films to be nominated for an Oscar, when Dean’s instincts start screaming at him. Something is wrong! He turns towards the front door, just in time to see a thick piece of wood swinging towards his head, a flash of pain, and then the world goes black.


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Dean is aware of is a pounding in his skull, a cacophony of drums beating in time with each throb of pain. His training kicks in, and he keeps his head down as he takes stock of his surroundings.

What the fuck happened? He remembers listening to Castiel talk about some movie, and then...Cas! Dean strains his ears for any sound of the other man, and is rewarded by the sounds of Cas’s gruff cursing on the other side of the room. Good, at least he’s conscious then.

“I know you’re awake, Dean. You can stop pretending.” The smug sounding voice alerts him to another person’s presence.

Alastair! Dean’s eyes open and when his eyes are able to focus enough, he sees him sitting comfortably on the couch. Bastard is examining his fingernails, looking for all the world as if he belongs there on Cas’s couch, as though he hasn’t just attacked Dean and Cas. _In Cas’s fucking house_. Dean’s eyes narrow at the sight.

“You okay, Cas?” he asks without taking his eyes off of Alastair. 

“I am all right, Dean. Are _you_ okay? How is your head?” Castiel sounds concerned, but not in any discomfort. Relief floods through him at that.

Before Dean can answer, Alastair pushes himself off the couch and strolls towards Dean. “Aww, isn’t that cute. So worried about one another. Ahh, love!” He claps his hands together and rubs them. “Ain’t it pretty?” He reaches Dean and pulls his hand back, swiftly bringing his fist in a teeth-rattling blow to Dean’s ribs and stepping back, throwing his arms wide in a gesture of delight.

Dean grunts in pain, breath leaving him and making him unable to do more. He always hated getting punched there. His lungs freeze, and he gasps for breath, ribs on fire. There is no way that one punch could do that much damage. Not from a human, anyways. A chilling thought comes to Dean. “Christo!” he manages to choke out. 

Alastair pulls back and his eyes flash white, and Dean is momentarily stunned. White eyes? What the fuck? He hears Castiel make a sound of shock, but keeps his attention focused on the demon before him. He was trained by John Winchester, and doesn’t let the surprise hit him for long. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he says, and Alastair pulls back with a hiss. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incur-” Fuck! What the fuck is the rest of it? His head is still pounding, and he can’t concentrate enough to recall the rest of the exorcism. He really wishes he had followed Sammy’s example growing up and paid the same attention to Latin as he did to weapons training. Maybe if he had his recall would surpass the throbbing in his skull.

Alastair laughs. “Oh, that tickles! What’s the matter, Dean? Can’t get it up?”

“What do you want?” 

Alastair holds up a finger. “Not what, Dean. _Who_ I want is the question. The answer of course, being you and your brother. Are you aware just how many demons you two boys pissed off? I mean, you killed someone _very_ high up on the food chain,” he tsks. 

“Would’ve thought that would make you guys happy. More room to move up, know what I’m sayin’?”

Alastair snorts, but doesn’t reply. He steps over to the kitchen counter. Dean turns his head to follow the movement. Alastair selects one of the knives from the chopping block. Dean’s heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t let any fear show on his face. His eyes flick over to where Castiel is bound, the blue eyes wide with panic. This is _so_ not how Dean wanted Cas to find out about the supernatural world. Not that he ever did, but him finding out like this sucks out loud. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean. You know, I was hoping to kill you and your brother, but this,” he gestures with the knife towards Castiel, “is too perfect. So how about this? I will kill your lover over there, slowly and painfully while you can do nothing but watch, and then I will kill you. Sounds delightful! And after? _Then_ I will find that brother of yours. And oh...the things I will do to _him_...”

Dean pulls fruitlessly against the ropes pinning him to the chair. “Fuck you, asshat. You don’t get to _touch_ them.” Come on, Dean, come _on_ , what is the rest of that damn exorcism? It’s on the tip of his tongue now that the pounding in his head has receded slightly. If he can just goad Alastair enough so he keeps talking...he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Damn assholes _always_ monologue. It’s like it’s taught in fugly 101.

Alastair arches an eyebrow and slinks over to Dean. He leans in closely, and Dean can practically smell the sulphur on his breath. “Oh, I’ll _touch_ all right,” he purrs. Alastair’s hand snakes forward and runs over Dean’s crotch, cupping him tightly and causing his breath to catch in his throat. “Although _you_ are certainly not bad on the eyes.” He looks Dean up and down appraisingly, just like he did in the club. “How about a new plan, hmmm? Maybe we should have some fun first and make him watch instead? I think that would be a good sight to take to the grave with him. Whaddya think, Dean?” Alastair shifts, moving so Cas has a view of what is happening. He palms Dean’s dick hard, and Dean is horrified that Cas is witnessing this.

Dean tries to squirm away from the unwanted touch, but is unable to because of the ropes binding him securely. No, not this! Not in front of Cas! Panic flares up, hot and uncomfortable, and it takes all of Dean’s willpower to force it back down. He needs to focus! He can hear Castiel yelling his name from across the room. His fists clench tightly with the need to punch this asshole in the face.

A cold hand flicks the button on his jeans open, and slides down the front of them, pushing the boxers aside. “Mmmm, very nice. Maybe I’ll take you back to Hell with me instead, Dean. Would you like that? Be my little whore in Hell?” His limp cock is squeezed, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut and cries out.

Sounds from across the room make him open his eyes. Castiel is throwing himself, trying desperately to break the chair he is bound to, shouting nonstop at Alastair. Dean grits his teeth and breathes heavily through his nose, willing Castiel to calm down before he draws the demon’s attention.

Alastair suddenly pulls his hand back and swings one leg over Dean to straddle him, effectively blocking his view of Cas. He licks a line up Dean’s neck, and Dean feels bile rise in his throat. “Get off me, you sonofabitch.” He tries to buck up to dislodge the demon, but Alastair just laughs, grasping Dean’s chin roughly and slamming his lips on Dean’s. Dean tries to bite at the tongue invading his mouth, but the firm grip on his jaw prevents him from doing so.

After what feels like an eternity, Alastair pulls back. “Feisty. I like it.” His voice rolls over Dean like an oil slick, and Dean feels dirtier just hearing it. “You taste like fear, Dean. It’s...” Alastair inhales deeply, “delicious.”

“Let me up and I’ll give you feisty,” Dean snarls, pulling his head back as far as he is able. God, it’s disgusting. But at least Alastair is focused on him, and not on Castiel. He just needs to remember that damn spell to send this asshole back to Hell! Wait, yes! The words to the exorcism come back to him in a rush, but before he can start to perform the ritual, Cas manages to capture Alastair’s attention.

“Get away from him!” Castiel is struggling in his own bonds, the legs of the chair slamming against the floor with his movements, and when Alastair turns to look at him, Dean can see the unbridled panic in Cas’s eyes when they meet his own, a tear making its way down his cheek.

Castiel’s arms are flexing, trying in vain to snap the ropes that are holding him. He continues yelling at the demon, and Alastair snarls and pushes himself up. 

“Stop. Interrupting. You’ll get your turn soon enough.” He strides over to Cas and Dean can only watch in horror as the knife Alastair is holding slashes a bloody line across Cas’s stomach. 

“No!” Dean yells, at the same time Cas cries out in pain. 

Dean thrashes in his own bonds, and howls at Alastair. He wills Cas to be okay, to just hold on! He pulls hard at the ropes, feeling the chair bend and groan beneath him. His muscles cord as he pushes himself to get out, to get to Cas. 

“Oh, don’t _worry_ so much, Dean,” Alastair says impassively, staring down where Cas is panting with his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “He won’t bleed out. I don’t want him to die just yet. Plenty of entertainment yet before he’ll be ready for _that_.”

Dean is almost blind with rage, adrenaline pumping through him and lending him the strength he needs. When he feels the chair snap, he flies out of it and hurls himself towards Alastair, lips pulled back in a snarl. He rams his shoulder into Alastair’s midsection, sending the two of them flying to the floor. Alastair brings the knife up, but Dean grasps his arm tightly and slams it hard against the unforgiving hardwood, causing the demon’s grip to loosen enough for the knife to fall to the floor. Dean gets in a couple of decent punches, reveling in the feeling of Alastair’s blood flowing from his split lip, before Alastair manages latch onto Dean’s shoulders and bring him down into a vicious headbutt.

Dean reels back, the impact to his already hurting skull sending black spots across his vision. He blinks, trying to clear it. He feels Alastair gain the upper hand and flip them, reversing their positions and sitting on Dean’s chest, the pressure causing his ribs to scream painfully. 

Alastair growls above him, and wraps his hands around Dean’s neck. “You’ve been a bad, bad boy, Dean.” He leans down to murmur, “Just for that, I’m going to take my sweet time with lover boy over there. See you in Hell, Deano...”

The lack of air combined with the throbbing in his skull and ribs causes the room to spin nauseatingly. One hand tries desperately to pull Alastair’s hands away, while the other scrabbles on the floor, searching for something, _anything_ that he can use to break the grip around his throat. Dean hears Cas screaming in the background. He focuses on that sound. If he loses now…

His searching fingers find the handle of the knife that Alastair dropped, and he tries to grasp the handle. But he’s running out of air. Out of time. 

Alastair smiles at the slowly dimming light in Dean’s eyes, not paying attention when Dean’s fingers finally manage to pull the knife closer and grab it. Dean uses the last of his dwindling strength to bring the blade up and slam it into the side of Alastair’s neck, coating them both in a spray of crimson. It’s not enough to kill the demon, but it’ll buy a moment of time.

Alastair falls back with a howl, and Dean immediately gasps for breath, rolling over and coughing. 

“Dean!” Cas calls, but he can’t spare him any attention. He has to finish this. Now.

He pushes himself to his feet, eyeing Alastair as he pulls the blade from his neck with a scowl.

“That is not nice, Dean,” the demon growls as he takes a step towards the hunter, blood coating the whole left side of his body. 

Dean takes a step back and smiles. “Nope, but it sure was fun,” he replies, voice raspy. He takes another step back and waits. 

Alastair launches himself at Dean, face contorted in a strained rictus, and Dean watches. Waits. Right before Alastair reaches him, Dean reaches out with both hands and uses Alastair’s own momentum to swing him to the right before letting go.

The demon snarls and turns to make another attack, only to be brought up short. He looks around in angry confusion.

Dean grins weakly, and gestures to the rug the demon is standing on. “Devil’s trap, bitch.” He takes a step towards Alastair, stopping just shy of the rug, and raises his chin in defiance.

Alastair just straightens and grins at him, bloody teeth showing. “And I always thought Sammy was the smart one. Gotta say, Deano, I’m pretty impressed. Doesn’t change the fact that you’ll still be my bitch in Hell.”

Dean grits his teeth, refusing to be baited by the asshole. “I’m not goin’ there,” he says coldly. “But you are. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” 

As the ritual is spoken, Alastair tosses his head back and snarls. Black smoke begins to pour from his mouth. Dean ignores everything and focuses only on finishing the exorcism. The rest of the words make it past the dry lump in his throat, but he forces out the final words. “Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos…” His voice is weak at the end, and he can only stand there and watch as the demon is expelled from his host and disappears back down to Hell.

Dean closes his eyes when the room sways dangerously, the knife that he’s still clutching in his fist falls to the ground. The thud it makes when it hits the ground startles him and he glances down with slightly glassy eyes, and is unable to stop himself from following the knife’s path - falling hard to his knees and finally giving into his body’s demands. The last thing he hears before he slips into darkness is Castiel’s voice desperately calling his name.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean opens his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling. For a brief moment, he forgets where he is, before he hears his name being called frantically. Then it all comes back. He groans, tilting his head to the side and seeing Cas staring at him fearfully. The sight causes him to sit up with a jolt, moaning at the discomfort as his wounds wake up at the movement. How long was he out for?

“Dean!” Cas gasps. “Oh thank god! You wouldn’t wake up, I...” His voice trails off, blue eyes wide and confused.

Dean pulls himself up to standing slowly, shaking his head to clear it. Big mistake. The world tilts on its axis, and his vision narrows as the blood roars in his ears. 

“Dean!” Cas’s voice pulls him back, and he manages to focus. Shit! Cas! 

“You okay?” Dean forces himself to move his feet and unsteadily walks over to where Cas is still slumped in his chair, watching him worriedly. Blood is slowly seeping onto the floor, and staining his skin. The sight causes nausea to swirl in his gut. He couldn’t even protect Castiel from this. He’s useless.

Despite the world of pain Cas must be in, he nods wearily.

“Let me see,” Dean says, falling to his knees at Cas’s side, ignoring the pain that flares up at the impact. He reaches forward and gently but quickly unties Castiel’s hands and ankles. As soon as he does, Cas flexes and shakes them at the feeling rushing back in. 

Dean pulls the bloody cloth away, inspecting the wound underneath. It’s not as bad as he feared originally, and he breathes a sigh of relief. The blood flow is already slowing. At least Alastair was right about that.

“Dean,” Cas says again, voice more firm. 

Dean pauses from the act of tearing a strip of cloth out of his shirt. “Yeah?”

“What. Just. Happened?” Cas punctuates each word separately, and his gaze bores into Dean. “That was...Wasn’t that Alastair? His eyes...And what was he talking about Hell…?” The questions are written plainly on Castiel’s face, but he is hardly making any sense as the questions stumble out. Not that Dean blames him. “What did you do to him? But...Alastair? Really?”

Dean snorts. Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. “I guess you can call him that,” he replies stiffly. He finishes ripping the strip of cloth and presses it to Cas’s stomach, heart clenching at the hiss of pain he causes. “He...It was a demon.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, just lets the information sink in. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are closed. 

Dean holds the cloth tightly, ignoring the feel of the warm blood seeping through. His hands are already stained with enough blood throughout the years, what’s a little more? He knew that this was too good to last. Dean Winchester doesn’t get to be happy. 

“Look,” he says hesitantly. “Let me just take care of this wound here. It looks like it might need a couple stitches. Then I’ll…I’ll go.”

Cas’s eyes fly open. “Go? What are you talking about, Dean?” he asks roughly. He reaches a hand up and grasps Dean’s shoulder tightly. “Why would you leave? We’ve been through this before, and I told you then, I do not want you to leave.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat. “Cas, I thought I could protect you from this. I thought I could keep you safe.” He shakes his head miserably. “I didn’t want you to find out…” He looks down at his bloodied hands and bites his lip.

A soft touch to his chin lifts his eyes back up, and he leans into the touch for a moment before pulling away. “Find out what, Dean?” Cas asks softly.

Dean throws the hand not holding the cloth to the side, where Alastair’s body lays, half hidden behind the couch. “That the things that live in the shadows will kill you. That the nightmares you had as a child about the monsters in the closet are true. That there are things out there that will destroy everything good in this life that you thought you could have!” His voice rises into a shout at the end, and he clenches his teeth and takes a calming breath. He pulls his hand away from Cas’s stomach and inspects the wound. Huh, the bleeding has almost stopped, maybe it won’t need stitches after all. “I’m sorry, Cas. God, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“Dean.” Cas’s voice is firm, and the strength in it sends a spark of warmth through Dean. At least the knowledge hasn’t broken Castiel. “You saved me. It was...It was incredible.”

Dean’s eyes fly up to meet Cas’s. Incredible? Did Castiel hit _his_ head too? “I got you hurt. I brought this into your home, into your _life_ ,” he mutters, self recrimination evident in his voice. He takes a deep breath, and immediately regrets it as his ribs protest. He winces. 

“Your ribs, are they hurting you?” Cas asks, concerned. He reaches towards Dean, only to stop, a sad look on his face when Dean pulls back.

“It’s nothing,” Dean says. 

“If they are causing you pain, then it is not _nothing_ ,” Castiel chides. “Come. We will talk more later. We should go to the hospital and phone the police about…” He waves his hand in Alastair’s direction.

“No!” Dean cries. “No hospital. No police.”

“Dean-”

“Cas, trust me on this. I’ll explain everything, I owe you that much at least, but we can’t involve the police,” he pleads. “Please. Do you trust me?” His words unconsciously echo ones Castiel had said to him before.

Cas stares at him. “You owe me nothing, Dean, and of course I trust you. But there is a body in my house, and we should at least go to the hospital...”

“I can take care of all this, Cas.” Plenty of practice, after all. “You have a first aid kit around? I got one in the Impala if not.”

Cas sucks in his lower lip as he gazes at Dean. This is it, the moment of truth: if Cas can accept what happened tonight. And that Dean is capable of dealing with it. After a minute, Cas hums to himself and nods, as if coming to a conclusion. “It’s in the bathroom under the sink.”

Some of the tension drains from Dean’s shoulders at Castiel’s acceptance, even if it is only temporary. Dean is under no delusions, and knows Cas can still kick him to the curb at any time, and probably will after Dean explains everything. But for now, he’ll take it. “Okay, hold this here. The bleeding looks like it is slowing down, but keep the pressure on it anyways. I’ll be right back.”

He makes his way slowly to the bathroom. He uses the wall to guide himself, away from Castiel’s eyes he is unable to find the strength to fight the dizziness that assaults him. Damn head wounds. Thank fuck he has such a hard head.

He reaches the bathroom and switches the light on. He glances in the mirror, and winces back from the broken man staring back at him, covered in blood. Dean quickly turns on the tap and washes away the blood that coats his face in a crimson mask. At least now he doesn’t look like some sort of serial killer. He tears his eyes back from the mirror, instead he opens the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a fairly large first aid kit. He sets it on the counter and opens it, pleasantly surprised at how well stocked it is. Cas must be accident prone or something, because the only kits he’s seen this stocked belong to hunters or klutzes.

Dean is just about to leave the bathroom, when he catches sight of his jeans, top button undone. He freezes, remembering the feel of Alastair’s hand all over him and he clenches his teeth, quickly fumbling with the button to get it done back up. No time to think about that right now, now he has to focus on Cas. In fact, better to never think about _that_ again.

He tucks the first aid kit under his arm, along with a couple of washcloths, and heads back to where Cas is waiting in the kitchen. Slightly shaking, pale hands are pressing against his stomach. God, how much blood did he lose? 

“Here,” Dean says. “I gotcha, Cas.”

“Take care of yourself first, Dean. I am all right.” 

Yeah, like that’ll happen. Dean opens the kit and pulls out everything he will need to take care of Cas. “‘M fine, Cas,” he replies distractedly, opening a few packets of alcohol swabs, using them to clean the wound. “Just let me do this for you, then I’ll take care of myself.” 

Cas moves his hands when Dean gestures for him to. After wiping the wound down with a clean cloth, Dean leans in close and inspects it. Oh good, the bleeding is almost stopping and no stitches are required. In all honesty, Dean’s hands are shaking slightly and he would’ve put in some pretty shitty stitches. He pulls out a bandage and presses it against the cut, as firm as he dares, trying to stop the bleeding completely.

Cas watches him, and the offers a sad smile. “Dean, when will you realize that it is okay to let others take care of you? I am your Dom, it is what I am supposed to do. Now, you have taken care of me, please let me do the same for you. And then we will talk.”

Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead he sits back on his heels and clears his throat. “Yeah. I know, Cas. Have at ‘er.” He gestures to his head wound, which is still bleeding steadily. 

Castiel takes another cloth and pushes himself up, only the slightest wince betraying how much the motion pains him. He cleans Dean’s wound gently, and Dean almost finds himself wishing that Cas would be a little rougher. He’s being too damn _nice_ , and Dean doesn’t deserve that!

“How are your ribs?” Castiel asks quietly above him.

Dean shrugs. “Just bruised. They’ll be fine.” He’s had enough broken and cracked ribs over the years, he knows how to tell the difference between that and a bruise. Cas holds out a hand to help him up, and Dean almost refuses. Would have, too, if he didn’t know how important it was to Cas that he helps.

He grasps the hand and hauls himself up. “Okay, I know we need to talk. I owe you that. But first let me get _that_ ,” he points at Alastair’s body, “out of here. I don’t...It shouldn’t be in your house. I’ll deal with it after.” He steps over to the body and looks down at it, disdain clearly written on his features. He pushes down the desire to kick the meatsuit’s face in. Somehow he doesn’t think that would sit well with Cas. Instead, he stoops down and grabs the body under the armpits and begins to drag it towards the back door, looking over his shoulder as he goes.

He almost drops it when the weight suddenly becomes lighter. He looks forward in startlement and is met with a determined looking Castiel holding the legs. “Cas, you don’t-”

“I am a part of this too, Dean,” is all he says. And really, how can Dean deny that?

Together, they haul the corpse out of the house, and onto the back deck. Once again, Dean is grateful for the privacy from neighbors. Could’ve been awkward otherwise.

Castiel stares at the body, and Dean scratches his forehead. Yeah, things are about to get even more strange for the guy. “I need to umm, salt the body and burn it.” Wide blue eyes fly up to meet his. “Actually, maybe I should explain shit to you first, then you’ll get why,” Dean says tiredly as he scrubs a hand down his face.

Cas just nods slowly, and leads Dean back into the house, where they wash their hands before Cas goes and sits heavily in one of the kitchen chairs, back turned to the living room.

Dean sits down in the chair next to him, wringing his hands in his lap. The silence between them is slightly awkward, for the first time ever. It has Dean’s nerves eating away at him, and he squirms a bit in discomfort.

“You were going to explain things to me,” Castiel says quietly. Helpfully. 

Dean nods and sucks on his bottom lip. “Right. Yeah.” Now he just needs to figure out _how_. Well, like they say, no place like the start. Dean takes as deep a breath as his bruised ribs allow. “It...It started when I was four. Sammy was only six months old, and a...a man with yellow eyes came into his nursery. He killed my mom. Burned her, right up there on the ceiling. Dad, he put baby Sammy in my arms and he told me to run...” His voice cracks slightly as he recounts that particular moment in his life.

Dean closes his eyes at the memory. He has never liked talking about this, and now is no exception. He feels the familiar burn in his eyes, and consciously wills the tears away. He won’t cry in front of Cas. He _won’t_. He feels Cas put his hand on his knee, which he didn’t realize was nervously bouncing, and opens his eyes to look at the other man. He sees only encouragement, no trace of condemnation or fear. Fuck, what did he do to deserve Cas? Cas should hate him right now for bringing this into his life.

He tentatively puts his hand over Cas’s and continues. “We discovered it was a demon. The yellow-eyed man, I mean. And so my dad packed me and my brother up and started us on his quest for revenge. Along the way, we discovered it wasn’t just demons that were real. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, you name it...” He trails off and pushes himself off the chair, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck as he paces back and forth in front of the table. Castiel watches him, more calm than he should be. Fuck, why isn’t he freaking out right now? He _should_ be freaking out!

“We started to hunt them all. Me, Dad, and even Sammy once he was old enough. Fuck, I tried so hard to hide it all from him, but he’s got more curiosity in him than anyone I’ve ever seen. Figured it out on his own. Always said he was too smart for his own good.” Dean chuckles dryly. “So yeah, that’s the truth in a nutshell. I guess this is the part where you throw my crazy ass out and tell me I belong in a looney bin, huh?”

Castiel tuts and shakes his head firmly. “Do not be ridiculous, Dean. I have no intention of ‘throwing you out’.” 

“Aren’t you freaked?” Dean stops and stares at Cas dumbly.

Cas offers a small shrug. “Well, I admit it’s a lot to take in. But I saw Alastair for myself.” Dean flinches slightly at the mention of the demon, and Cas crinkles his brow in concern before continuing. “I think I will need a while for it all to sink in. Please, Dean, sit.” He pats the spot that Dean recently vacated.

Dean shakes his head and takes a step back. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve Cas. He’s the reason Cas got hurt, _again_. Fuck! 

“Dean?” Cas questions, worry coloring his voice. 

“Alastair…” Dean tries to hide the tremble in his voice when he says the demon’s name. He thinks he’s successful when Cas doesn’t immediately fly off the chair towards him. “He came here because of me. He hurt you because of _me_.” He cards his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, Cas, I told you. I freakin’ told you this would happen!” He spins around, unable to look at Cas, whose shirt and pants are still covered in blood. The sight that greets his eyes is not much better, the blood splattered and pooling on the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block out what he has brought to Castiel’s home.

“Dean! Look at me.” Cas uses his Dom voice, and Dean drops his hands and turns back to Cas. “I thought we had covered this. I do not blame you, and I wish you would not blame yourself. Demons.” A strange look crosses Cas’s face when he says the word, as though he cannot believe he is saying it. “Demons are evil, correct?” At Dean’s nod, he continues. “And you have killed this one?” 

“Well, not killed, exactly. More like I sent his ass back to Hell.” 

“So he will not be hurting anybody else. Including me.” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Cas looks at him sharply and he shuts his mouth with a snap. “You have saved me, and perhaps countless others tonight had Alastair walked free. I would have had no idea what to do, so it is only through you knowing that I stand here in the first place! True, we both sustained some injuries, but I hardly think that is too large of a price to pay. Overall, I would call this night a success! And I will _not_ sit here and listen to you berate yourself for that any longer! Do you understand?” Cas is standing now, and breathing heavily with his fists clenched and his eyes on fire.

Dean is stunned into silence. He stares at Castiel, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. He was certainly not expecting _that_.

“Dean?” Cas all but growls.

“Y-yes, Sir.” The Sir slips out unintended, but it seems to have the right effect, because Castiel nods once and then smiles at him. 

“Good. Then come here and sit. I still have some questions.” Cas is calm now, and the switch between _commanding Dom_ and _curious Cas_ has Dean’s head spinning, but he sits down anyways. Besides, Cas’s proximity is comforting right now, even though that is something he would never say out loud.

“Oookay,” he drawls out. “What’s your question? I’ll try to answer if I can.” It’s really the least he can do, after all. 

“How did you get that scar? The one on your chest.”

Dean freezes. Of course, the one thing Dean doesn’t want to talk about is the one thing Castiel would ask. Figures. He couldn’t ask how to kill a ghost, or anything like that...

Cas waits for Dean’s answer patiently, slowly rubbing comforting circles on Dean’s back. He obviously remembers how he reacted last time they talked about it. 

Once again, Dean’s knee begins to nervously shake up and down, but he is focused on his memories and pays it no heed. After a few minutes, he comes back to himself and scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, sorry,” he says, acknowledging Cas’s patience gratefully. “I got it the night my dad-” He stops, unable to say the words. The memories threaten to overwhelm him once more, but he grits his teeth and forces them back down. “Dad was, uhh, he got possessed. By that same bastard who killed our mom. Sam and I...we didn’t know, thought the demons had just caught him. Turns out the usual tricks to uncover a demonic possession didn’t work on that particular demon. Just our luck, huh?” 

Cas doesn’t answer. But then, Dean doesn’t really expect one. He takes a breath and continues. “Anyways, there’s this gun. Made by Samuel Colt, and we managed to get our hands on it. The legends said that it could kill anything.”  
“Like a demon,” Cas says, nodding along with Dean’s words.

Dean nods. “Yeah. Like a demon. Tried it when we rescued dad, too. It worked, so...So we had the colt, and the three of us ended up in a cabin. We were gonna try to figure out what to do next. And, uhhh, that’s when I figured out Dad was really the yellow-eyed demon.” Dean stares at the ring on his finger, the little band of silver catching the light. _I’m proud of ya….Sam and I can get pretty obsessed, but you watch out for this family. You always have…_ The echoes of the demon’s words hurt just as much now as they did when they caused Dean to realize that it wasn’t his dad. That his dad wouldn’t say that. 

“What gave it away?”

“Said he was proud of me.” Dean snorts. “How pathetic is that? But yeah. Gave himself away with that little mistake. After he knew he’d been caught, he pinned Sam and me to the wall.”

Cas makes a noise in his throat and flexes his hand. “Pinned you to the wall?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. It’s a demon thing, don’t ask me why. Too be honest, I have no clue why Ala-” He chokes off the word and clears his throat. “Alastair didn’t do that little trick earlier. But, anyways, the demon cut me open from the inside out. That sonofabitch used my _dad’s_ body to try to rip my heart right out of my chest. Would’ve succeeded, too, if it wasn’t for Sam. But thanks to the colt, the demon died. Unfortunately so did our dad.” Dean sucks in his lower lip, unable to say that it was Sam who killed him. But from the sad understanding in Cas’s eyes, he doesn’t have to. 

He clears his throat. “Look, can we finish this later? I need to take care of that body.” Dean hurriedly pushes himself up and off the couch, moving away from Castiel before the other man even has a chance to say anything. He heads out the front door to where the Impala is sitting in the drive.

Cas seems to realize the change of subject for what it is, and follows Dean out the door. “Why do you have to salt and burn a body?” he asks curiously.

Dean doesn’t look back, just throws over his shoulder, “‘Cause then the spirit of whoever’s body it is won’t come back to haunt your ass. I’m pretty sure that whoever Alastair was wearing as a meatsuit was probably already gone, but better to be safe than sorry.” He reaches the Impala and runs an unsteady hand over her sleek, black frame. The metal is cool beneath his touch, and the contact with his Baby grounds him, and he reaches in and snags his ever present duffel from the trunk. He shuts the lid and turns back to where Cas is waiting for him calmly. Damn guy has to be the most well adjusted person _ever_ to not be freakin’ over what happened, and Dean tells him so as he walks past him towards the back yard.

Castiel just smiles softly at him. “Well, growing up with my family was a pretty intense experience too. Nothing like your childhood and what you went through, but still...Because of what happened between my family and I, I have come to be...quite open-minded, in all things.” After a moment he shrugs. “Even this.” 

Dean chews on his lower lip. “Look, Cas. I don’t think you should watch this. Open-minded or not, there’s no reason you need to see a human body burning. Trust me on this, okay? I’ve done it before, comes with the job description. Point is, it’s not exactly pleasant, and I think you’ve had enough _unpleasant_ for a lifetime.” Understatement of the friggin’ century. Dean couldn’t protect Cas from the knowledge of what goes bump in the night, but this? Seeing this _is_ something he can protect him from. At least for tonight.

Castiel stares at Dean hard for a minute, then nods, unable to hide the relieved look in his eye at not having to see a human corpse being burned. He leans in and kisses Dean gently on the lips, and for a brief second Dean flashes back to the smell of sulphur. He catches himself immediately, but Cas pulls away when he feels Dean stiffen. His gaze is concerned, and Dean offers him a smile in reassurance. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Dean wills Cas to just listen to him despite that.

“‘M okay, Cas. _Really_. You need to rest anyways. I’ll be in soon, okay? Go on inside and let me deal with this.” He doesn’t add the _please_ that is resting on the tip of his tongue, but Cas seems to hear it anyways, and Dean is grateful, so damn grateful that Cas knows him so well. Knows that he needs a minute to rebuild his walls and deal with what happened without fear of being seen. 

Cas takes a step back, then turns and slowly makes his way back into the house, leaving Dean to burn his demons, the light of the fire illuminating the single tear that falls from his eye.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean wearily heads back into the house after he has finished with the body, dropping his duffel on the floor beside the back door.

Castiel is sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, staring into it as though he is lost in his thoughts. He glances up when Dean comes in and gestures to the other mug, several pills sitting beside it. Dean raises his eyebrow when he recognizes a couple of them.

“You missed your dose,” Cas says tiredly. “And there’s a couple of painkillers there, too.”

Damn. How in the hell did Dean get so lucky? He sits down in the chair beside Cas and swallows the pills, washing them down with a gulp of hot coffee, wincing slightly as the liquid burns his sore throat.

“Is it-?” Cas asks hesitantly, eyes flicking towards the back door.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, voice soft. He doesn’t say anything else, knowing the questions will start without any prompting. Sure enough, Cas shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat a minute later.

“Dean, abou-about what Alastair did to you…”

Great. Of course they have to have a talk about _that_. “It was nothing, Cas.” Dean’s voice sounds robotic, even to his own ears. He stubbornly stares into his coffee cup, refusing to meet Cas’s worried eyes. 

Castiel makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “I saw what he was doing, Dean. He _touched_ you! He-he fucking tried to…You can’t tell me it was nothing.” Anger is seeping through into Cas’s voice, and Dean wonders briefly if it is really only directed at Alastair, or if some of it is reserved for him, too. Not that he doesn’t deserve it…But underneath the anger, there’s a fierce protectiveness there too, and Dean tries to wrap his head around the fact that someone is protective of _him_ for once. The thought causes warmth to spread through his belly, surprising him and pushing away the other negative feelings that are threatening to drown him once again.

Dean shuts his eyes, unable to look at Castiel. He takes a sip of coffee and places it back on the table with a heavy sigh. “Cas, look. It was gross, and wrong in _every_ way. I know that. But really, nothing happened! I can deal with a few disgusting touches, or whatever. Promise.” He blinks his eyes open wearily and rubs his hands over them.

Cas sighs, before he pushes himself up and moves to stand over Dean.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Cas?” he questions.

When Castiel lowers himself so he is straddling his lap, Dean pushes down the brief flash of Alastair, clenching his hands into fists to ground himself. It’s _Cas_ , dammit! He wasn’t lying when he said he can deal with this, but the memory is still so damn fresh...His muscles are tense, but Cas doesn’t make any more moves, doesn’t do anything but sit on Dean’s lap, humming low in his throat. He’s so damn close his scent fills Dean’s nostrils, his soft humming fills Dean’s ears, and Dean slowly relaxes. 

After a few minutes, when the tension finally drains from Dean’s muscles, Cas ever so gently takes Dean’s face in his hands. Dean is expecting Cas to kiss him but instead the other man just gazes into Dean’s eyes. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” His voice is husky and full of emotion. “I love you, so damn much. You’re mine, Dean. _Mine_. Not his. Never his.”

Dean surges up, heedless of the flare of pain in his ribs, and captures Cas’s mouth with his own. The kiss is rough and needy and Cas responds in kind. A whimper leaves Dean’s throat as he tries desperately to scrub the memory of Alastair from his mind, cleansing himself with everything _Castiel_.

Hands frantically tug on shirts, and they break their kiss only long enough for said shirts to be pulled over their heads before their lips are crushing together once more. Dean’s tongue fights Cas’s for dominance, and Cas let’s him, content to let Dean have control in this, nipping at Dean’s tongue as it plunders his mouth. Dean tastes Cas, and he focuses on that, pushing down the sulphur taste until it is locked away firmly.

Dean feels Cas running his hands down the sweat slicked skin of his back and the chair groans beneath him. He pulls back with a gasp. 

“Dean,” Cas’s voice is breathy and worried, and Dean shakes his head. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I just want to move off the chair before we break it.”

Cas pauses and looks down. “That is a good idea.” Without warning he pulls Dean off the chair. “Bedroom,” he breathes.

Dean wastes no time following Cas down the hall, both of them purposely ignoring the mess in the living room, refusing to let the sight taint anything about this. They reach the bedroom and collapse onto the bed. Cas gives a short cry of pain as the movement jostles his wound, but when Dean hurriedly moves to push himself away, Cas is already recovered and tugging his pants off, uncharacteristically dumping them on the floor. Dean pauses only a moment to make sure he is really okay, before pulling off his own, the plug in his ass shifting and Dean pulls it out without a second thought. 

As soon as they are both naked, Cas is all over him, needy sounds drawn from his throat as he presses himself so close to Dean it is as though he is trying to crawl inside of him. He dry thrusts against Dean, and Dean can feel his hardness where it rubs against his leg. Cas’s hands are almost frenzied in their exploration of Dean’s body as he’s pulled in close.

Dean’s breath hitches. For a brief moment, fear bubbles up inside his chest once more, but he refuses to let himself think about what happened. He repeats Cas’s name over and over in his head until it almost consumes him. “Need you, Cas,” Dean whispers. “Please.”

Cas doesn’t waste time, just lines himself up and plunges in, the previously locked in come acting as lube. The thrusts are almost frenzied, and each one jostles Dean’s ribs and head, but he doesn’t care. He’s lost in the sensation of Castiel.

Cas’s thrusts are hard, pushing Dean up the bed with each one. Pillows fall to the ground and the blankets tangle in their feet as they fuck, and Dean frantically kicks them off. He accidently kicks Cas in the shin, but Cas is too caught up in kissing Dean to even notice. The hand he isn’t using to brace himself up with wraps around Dean’s cock and pumps it in time with his thrusts. 

Cas presses kisses anywhere his mouth can reach, and frantic murmurs of ‘mine’ reach Dean’s ears. Dean opens his mouth to reassure Cas, to tell Cas he _is_ his, but he seems to have forgotten how to speak when all that comes out is a needy sounding whine. Dean’s skin feels overly sensitive, and he feels each kiss Cas lays on him with a blazing intensity, and the scratch of Cas’s stubble where it rubs along his skin leaves a trail of fire everywhere it touches.

Castiel thrusts forward one last time, and comes with a howl that is muffled by Dean’s chest. Dean follows him over the edge almost immediately, his body shuddering from the release.

Cas blinks down at him, and has enough presence of mind not to collapse on Dean, so he rolls over, flopping next to him and panting heavily.

Dean glances at Cas’s stomach, his own doing flip flops when he sees small, bright red blotches staining the bandage. “Cas, you’re bleeding again,” he points out. 

Cas looks down and shrugs. “It’s not bad, and it was worth it.” He leans over and kisses Dean’s neck.

Dean rolls his eyes and pushes Cas back. Fuck, he must be rubbing off on the guy. “Still, lemme change the bandage and check it.”

Cas grabs his wrist as he goes to push himself up. “No. Leave it, it’s barely bleeding.”

“Cas-” Dean begins.

“I said no, Dean. Just- just lay here with me. Tonight was...I just want to hold you.”

Dean hesitates, still wanting to change the bandage, but he succumbs to Castiel’s wishes. He cannot deny him anything. He lays back down and Cas wraps himself around, and they become a tangle of limbs, uncaring about the mess they have made of each other, each holding the other and not letting go. 

“Dean,” Cas starts after a few minutes, hesitation coloring his voice as it cuts through the comfortable silence.

Dean groans. Great. Post sex talk. Can’t they just cuddle? In a manly way, of course. _Man cuddles_. Sounds odd.

“We still need to talk about what Alastair did to you.”

Oh, for the love of... “Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean untangles himself, pushing himself up onto his elbows and turning to glare at the other man. “I already told you. I. Am. Fine.” He enunciates each word carefully, as though doing so will drive the point home further.

Cas sits up as well and throws his hands out, nearly hitting Dean in the process. “Really? Because _I_ am not, and I don’t think you are either.”

Dean clenches his teeth and narrows his eyes. “Well, I let you _fuck_ me, didn’t I?” he says scathingly. Cas pulls back as though the words burned him. Or perhaps it is just how Dean said them. At the movement, all the anger drains out of Dean at once. His shoulders sag. “‘M sorry, Cas. I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that, okay?” The frickin’ emotional roller coaster Dean is on right now unnerves him. He has always locked his emotions away, and having them right at the forefront of his mind is setting him on edge. He tries futilely to shove them back into the overflowing lockbox. 

“Yes, you did,” Cas says softly. He shifts with a slight wince and takes one of Dean’s hands in his own. Dean bites down the urge to pull his hand away. “Dean, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now, but I just wish you’d at least talk to me.”

Great. Looks like a chick flick moment is in the cards, no matter what Dean wants. He doesn’t know who’s worse with those, Cas or Sam. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he tries to figure out something, _anything_ , to say to Cas. God, he sucks at this… “Okay, maybe I’m not cool with what happened,” he admits quietly. “Shit like that...I guess I just never thought it’d happen to me, you know?” Just thinking about it is making his palms clammy. Cas must notice, but he doesn’t say anything, just waits for Dean to continue. His presence is strong. Comforting. And Dean lets it slowly begin to fill in the cracks that have splintered in him. “I’ve always thought of myself as this kick-ass hunter. And I couldn’t do anything… And he…” Dean is unable to finish the thought, he just squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on Cas. 

“You feel that an integral part of your identity has been taken from you.” Cas finishes for him, a statement not a question. Damn, how does Cas know him so well? Dean just nods in reply, eyes still shuttered to the world. “Dean, please look at me.” Castiel’s voice is soft, his words a request and not a demand. Dean knows he has a choice to make right now, and he can practically taste the anticipation in the air. He opens his eyes.

The relief in Cas’s gaze is obvious, and Dean offers him a small smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s all he can offer right now. He’s still wound tight, like a Jack-in-the-Box ready to spring, and he clenches the hand that Cas isn’t holding into a fist, feeling his nails dig into his palms as his mind drifts back to the humiliation of what Alastair did to him, coming back to himself when he feels Castiel squeeze his other hand. 

“You are a strong and capable human being, Dean. Alastair did not take that from you. I have known that about you since we first got together; that is one reason why you are such a wonderful submissive.” Dean looks at Cas in surprise, who nods before continuing. “You _know_ who you are, and what you are capable of. You demonstrated that tonight when you took Alastair out! Just because he did...what he did tonight, does not make you any less of what defines you.” He looks pensive, and after a moment he releases Dean’s hand and gets up, leaving Dean to contemplate what Cas said. 

Dean doesn’t want to let him go, but he isn’t a baby, damn it! He watches as Cas goes over to the dresser and pulls out some rope. His heart skips a beat and his mouth goes dry as he stares. “Cas?” His voice cracks. “Wha- What are you doing? I know I’m sexy and all, and I appreciate you wanting to go again, but I think I need a few minutes to recover, at least.” The attempt at humor falls flat.

Cas comes back to the bed and sits down beside him. “I just wanted to try something,” he says sadly. “But I think I already have my answer.”

Dean doesn’t reply, just reaches out an unsteady hand towards the hank of rope in Castiel’s hand. The second he touches it he can feel it wrapped around his wrists and ankles, holding him down while Alastair showers him with unwanted touches. He pulls back sharply. 

Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, wincing when he accidentally brushes the gash on the back of his head. He brings his hand down with a sigh. “God, Cas,” he starts, “I don’t know why the fuck this is hitting me so hard. I want this,” he gestures to the ropes, “I _do_ , but I just...Not yet, okay?” Dean remembers with a pang how safe the ropes made him feel before. Fuck, he hopes he will be able to feel that again without thinking of Alastair. 

Cas nods, expression solemn. “I understand, Dean.” He pauses, before adding, “and us?”

Dean stares at Cas like he’s grown a second head. “Huh?” What the hell is Cas even talking about? Us?

The other man shifts. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything if you aren’t ready, Dean.”

Suddenly the light clicks on. Dean huffs out a breath. “Cas, don’t even think that, okay? I want you.” He chuckles drily. “Fuck, lately you’ve been the only thing keeping me sane. And I’m serious about that.” He rubs his hand absently over the scar on his chest. “No matter what happened tonight, I...I need what we have, okay? Don’t ever think that I don’t.” This time his smile does reach his eyes. 

Cas smiles in return. “I need it too, Dean.” 

The silence that stretches between them now is comfortable, peaceful, as though something that was missing has been slotted back into place. Okay, girly talk officially done. Dean slaps a hand down on Cas’s leg. “Dude, let’s get cleaned up. I feel fucking gross!”

Cas chuckles at that, looking down at himself. “Yes, I suppose it _is_ pretty...sticky. Hang on, I’ll be right back.” 

Dean flops back against the remaining pillow, staring at the ceiling as he waits for Castiel. He watches as Cas returns, washcloth in hand. After they are both cleaned up, Dean yawns loudly. His eyelids are getting heavier by the moment, and he can’t fight them as they close.

“Get some rest, Dean.” Cas presses a kiss to his forehead. 

Dean cracks an eye open. “Aren’t you coming to bed with me?” he mumbles sleepily.

“I am going to stay up for a while. Clean up the living room.” Cas pats his leg and stands up. 

Dean forces both eyes open at that. “Gimme a sec, I’ll help.”

“No. I will take care of this. My mind still has a lot to process, anyways. Get some sleep. I will wake you up in a couple hours and make sure you sustained no further injury to your head.”

“Aww, Cas!”

“I do believe that is standard procedure for concussions.” Cas picks up the blanket that had fallen on the floor and drapes it over Dean. “Sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue that he is fine, Cas doesn’t have to bother, when sleep reaches out and claims him.


	15. Epilogue

A couple of weeks later, Dean is sitting on Castiel’s new couch. They had gotten rid of the old one, unable to remove the blood that stained the fabric. Not that Dean is complaining, this new one is hella comfortable to cuddle on. Nice and deep, perfect for spooning and watching a movie. 

Dean looks around the room, noting that the couch and matching loveseat seem to fit the room a lot better than the old one did. His eyes land on the new welcome mat that Castiel had bought and that Dean had promptly painted a Devil’s trap on the backside of. He rolls his eyes in fond exasperation, recalling how ecstatic Castiel was to find one with fluffy white kittens on it. Kittens? Really? What a weirdo.

“I have a surprise for you, Dean,” Cas says from the kitchen, where he is preparing a breakfast of parfaits. Dean won’t admit it to anyone except Cas, but he has developed a taste for the yogurt-y goodness.

“Really?” Dean’s mind immediately goes into the gutter, already trying to think what sort of kinky sex toy Cas could have picked up. “What is it?”

The other man comes into the living room, carrying two parfaits and handing one to Dean. “I told you, Dean. It’s a surprise.” Cas shakes his head at him, smiling. “If I told you, then there would not be a surprise. _Therefore_ I cannot tell you.”

Dean grins. “Aww, come on, Cas! I promise I’ll _act_ surprised!” he says cheekily.

“You will see in a few minutes,” is all Castiel replies. “Finish your breakfast first.”

Dean digs in with enthusiasm, and when a raspberry drops onto his bare leg, Castiel immediately leans over and sucks it up. Sexy. Dean wonders what would happen if he _accidentally_ dropped the whole damn thing. He contemplates the logistics of just how to do that in the future and make it look like an accident.

They finish their breakfasts in silence, the only sound is their spoons clinking against glass and the quiet drone of the television in the background. Dean polishes off the rest of his and leans back with a comfortable sigh. “Thanks,” he murmurs, leaning over and kissing Cas on the cheek just as the other man finishes his own. 

Cas smiles. “I am glad you enjoyed it.” He places his dish on the coffee table and settles himself firmly against the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes with a smile.

Dean eyes him. He wants his surprise! He is practically vibrating with anticipation, like a kid on a candy rush. Cas plus surprise probably equals awesome sexy time, and Dean _wants_! 

Cas cracks open an eye and Dean can see the amusement there. Ass. He _knows_ Dean is excited. Dean huffs and settles himself down beside Cas, arms crossed. Two can play at this game. Dean pretty much raised _Sam_ , after all, and that was the ultimate trial of patience. After about ten minutes, neither of them moving an inch, Cas finally sits up with a smile. Dean pretends to glare at him. 

“All right, Dean. I’ll be right back.” He pushes himself up and heads into the bedroom.

Ha! Winning!

Castiel comes back, a box held in his hands. It is wrapped in shiny gold paper. He sits down beside Dean once more and hands the box over. “I hope you like it.”

Dean shakes his head. It’s from Cas, why _wouldn’t_ he like it? He chuckles to himself as he unwraps the paper, revealing a solid black box. He opens the lid and his eyes widen as he takes in the contents. He gently lifts the collar out of the box and holds it up.

Dean examines the collar closely. He’s never seen one like this before. Well, not that he’s _looked_ at many collars, but still…There was the one he had noticed on Chuck’s neck, and some of the other subs at the club. And, okay, so _maybe_ he googled a few images...Still, he’s never seen one quite like this. Coming back to the present, his attention is once again captured by the collar, and he runs his hands over it reverently. The black leather is soft and supple, lined inside with an equally soft red lining. It’s thick, about an inch and a half, but Dean doesn’t mind. A single ring hangs from it, and Dean’s trained eyes can tell immediately that it’s made of pure silver. Intricate engravings wrap around the entire collar, and Dean lifts it up to his eyes to examine them more closely. He draws a sharp breath when he realizes what they are. 

“Cas…” he breathes, eyes flicking up to meet the blue ones of Castiel, before they go back to their examination of the engravings. “Where did you get this?” 

“I had it specially made. A friend of mine is very good at working with leather,” Cas replies softly. 

Around the outer leather band is a series of figures. Dean can’t believe how much detail could go into carving such tiny figures into leather, of all things, but that just makes this particular collar even more special. Each figure appears to be an angel. Each one appears to be doing something different with their hands: holding something, reaching for something, holding something close to their hearts. Wings sprout out from their backs, and Dean is fairly certain he can even make out the markings of feathers. But the thing that catches his eye the most is that each and every one seems to have their wings spread, just to the point of taking flight.

He looks up at Cas with a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing upon his lips. “Angels?” he asks, voice teasing. “Aren’t you supposed to be the non-religious one in your family?”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder. “I figured if there were demons in the world, than perhaps there is also a force of good. Angels seem...a lot more probable now that I know the truth. _God_ , on the other hand…”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah. I hear ya.”

“Do you like it?” The uncertainty in Cas’s voice is clear, and Dean knows why. He wasn’t exactly open to the concept the last time it was brought up. But a lot has changed since then. _Dean_ has changed.

“Cas, I...I love it. It’s definitely more than I would have thought a collar could be.” He puts the collar down back into the box and sets it down between them. “Thank you,” he says with a kiss. 

Cas hums happily into the kiss before pulling away and looking Dean in the eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to try it on?” He reaches past Dean and lifts the collar gently back out of the box. Dean tilts his head up as Castiel gently places it around his neck, buckling it in place.

The fit is perfect, and Dean swallows, feeling the soft leather slide against his skin. He brings a hand up to feel it sitting on his neck. Just like how the ropes used to be, he is pleasantly amazed at how safe the collar makes him feel. How _wanted_. 

Castiel watches him, eyes bright as he takes in Dean’s motions. “It looks amazing on you,” he says.

Dean wants to see what it looks like. He stands and makes his way over to the mirror by the fireplace. He stares at his reflection, and a smile slowly makes its way across his face. He turns back to Cas and raises an eyebrow. “Know what?” he asks, striking a ridiculous pose. “I make this look _good_!”

Castiel bursts out laughing. He stands and makes his way over to Dean, turning him back to face the mirror and wrapping his arms around him. He rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “I would say that I agree with that statement.” 

Dean stares at their reflections for a moment. Thoughts race through his head and he comes to a decision. “Think I’ll make all the other subs at the club jealous with this thing?” he asks, watching Cas’s face carefully.

Cas freezes, his eyes meeting Dean’s in the mirror. “Dean,” he gasps. “You don’t have to...I mean, are you sure?” His eyes are shining with happiness, and Dean knows right then that _yes_. He is sure. 

“I want everyone to know I’m yours.” It’s all he says, his full lips curling up in a smile.

Cas sucks in a breath, and tightens his arms around Dean. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Dean turns in Cas’s arms and kisses him hungrily, trying to say everything with that one kiss that words won’t do. Castiel replies with the same. Words aren’t needed between them. After breaking the kiss, Castiel pulls him back over to the couch, wrapping Dean in his warm, strong arms as they bask in the glow of each other.

Dean brings a hand up once more to touch the collar, and reflects on all that has happened to him since that fateful night he had first walked into The Den and laid his eyes on his bartender. The ups - there are a lot of them. The downs - there are only a couple. 

He had talked to Sam about what had transpired with Alastair, leaving out a few of the details of course. He fondly recalls the look of shock on Sam’s face when he had been told that Castiel completely accepted and even supported hunting. The brothers both agree that they should keep a home base, and with Cas’s approval the decision had been an easy one to make.

He scoots himself closer to Cas, feeling the other man’s steady heartbeat and soft breaths that match his own. He smiles at the calm serenity that overtakes him in that moment. The love he feels for Castiel coils in his soul, pulsing so brightly that he thinks if he were to see it, it would shine brighter than the sun. And for perhaps the first time in his life, Dean is at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it folks! Thanks for sticking through and reading it till the end! If you haven't yet, check out the art masterpost by Dogsled! I hope you enjoyed it! Until next time!


End file.
